Sammie Rae: School Daze
by SciFiNutTX
Summary: Sammie Rae is in public school for the first time. Her English teacher thinks something is strange about her family, her friends are a little odd, Dad is being overprotective, and Uncle Sam is dating? Ch36 up. Complete
1. Chapter 1

#1) BIG thanks to H.T.Marie for posting the work-around to document manager upload not working.

#2) I am trying to respond to all the requests I've had lately. There are a number of Sammie Rae fans out there, and this story is about her first time in public school. I am also working on a new Problems With Dean, turning Light & Dark into a multi-chapter fic, and a brand new story (which I'll also try to post today) which is being done in collaboration with _**hotshow**_.

#3) Amy, thanks for previewing chapter 1 and letting me know it's something you want to read!

**Sammie Rae: School Daze**

"Parent-Teacher conference?" Dean stared down at the note in his hand in disbelief. "But it's only the second week of school! I usually managed to go a month before any of my teachers called one of these." 

Sam choked on his juice, trying hard not to smirk.

"And what's this part about the whole family being required?" Dean raised an eyebrow at that. "I've never heard of that."

"What?" Sam held out his hand for the note. "You're kidding."

Throughout this exchange, Rae sat quietly at the kitchen table staring at a plate of cookies. She turned thirteen on her last birthday and this year was her first foray into the public school system. Dean had been all for continuing the home schooling and letting her take the GED, until Sam pointed out that Rae had no social skills which meant she was useless at interviews. That clinched the deal. Then Rae stopped speaking to him a couple of days ago.

Sam skimmed the note. "This kind of sounds like your teacher thinks something is wrong with your homelife, Rae." He looked hopefully at her. He hated the silent treatment, and she was much better at it than Dean.

Rae glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest and pushing the cookies away. It was obvious from the fact they were her favorite that it was a bribe. Sam sighed, looking to Dean for help.

"Dude, this is between you two." Dean stood. "Apparently I have to get ready for a conference. Tonight." Dean waved a hand between them. "You need to talk."

Sam stared down at the table, wondering where to start. He was pretty sure he did something to make her mad, but over the past year Rae had changed from a sweet niece into a pod person commonly referred to as a teenager. In short, Sam had no clue what he did.

"Hey!" He jumped at the sound of Dean's fist slamming down on the table. The plate with the cookies jumped and rattled, spraying crumbs onto the table. "I said you two need to talk, damn it. I don't know what the hell is going on, but I want it to stop. Now." Sam watched his brother head out of the room. He paused in the doorway. "Sam? I know I said we should wait a couple of months before you picked up Rae's lessons in legends and Latin, but I think maybe you should start on Monday."

Sam sat in stunned silence as Dean disappeared down the hall. First, he could not remember Dean ever acting that way, except maybe the few times he watched his brother stand up to their Dad. Second, it had been Sam's idea to hold off on their personalized version of Rae's education for a couple of months, not Dean's. He had argued that she needed time to adjust to going to school.

"Uncle Sam?" Rae asked tentatively.

"Yeah?" He forced his head to turn from where Dean stood a moment ago so he could look at her.

"You do want to teach me?" She asked. "You don't think I'm stupid?"

He felt like someone just sucker punched him in the stomach. "You're not stupid!" How could she possibly think something like that? Where did she get such an idea? Really! The kid was capable of absorbing so much, and what's more, not just memorizing but understanding what she was learning. That was rare, that was true learning.

A hand waved in front of his face. "Earth to Uncle Sam. Come in, Uncle Sam."

Sam shook himself, embarrassed. "What?"

Rae handed him a cookie. "Here, I can't eat all of these." She grinned at him. "Dad's right, you know.

"Doubt it," he replied automatically, taking a bite out of his cookie. "About what?"

"The way you react when you're really surprised." She chuckled. "I mean, your mouth was flopping open and closed." She grinned for a moment before the smile dropped from her face. "But I want to know the real reason you want me to go to school. I heard you tell Dad that it wasn't because you thought I'd get a better education."

Sam sighed. So that was what started the silent treatment. He and Dean had that 'discussion' a couple of nights ago. He made a mental note to hold all such future 'discussions' either before Rae got home or out at a bar. "If you had bothered to eavesdrop a little longer, young lady, you might have heard that I wanted you to have a normal life. Something Dean and I were never allowed."

She stared at him for a moment. "What if I don't want a normal life?" 

Sam groaned. "You sound just like Dean."

She grinned. "Thanks."

"That wasn't a compliment," Sam corrected. "You need friends, Rae. Kids your own age to talk to, to complain to about your parents, school, homework. It'll be good for you, Sunshine." Sam leaned over. "You really need to start talking to people other than me and your dad." 

"I do!" She insisted, reaching for another cookie. "I talked to that waitress just the other night."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Ordering your own dinner doesn't count anymore."

"It should," she mumbled.

"Rae, people aren't going to bite you. They aren't dangerous." Sam snagged another cookie.

Rae looked at him as if he just sprouted another head. "You're kidding, right?" She nodded towards the bedrooms. "Have you met Dad?"

"Okay, fine. _Most_ people aren't dangerous. Especially in school." Sam amended.

"Columbine," Rae pointed out, grabbing the last cookie.

Sam ran a hand over his head. "We should limit your television viewing."

"Ha! Like that's going to happen," she snickered. "But you know, if I were allowed to take my gun with me, I'm pretty sure that would never happen at my school."

"Forget it," Dean said as he strode back into the room. "How do I look?" he asked.

Sam cast a quick look at his brother. "Like an insurance adjuster." Dean was wearing the black suit with black tie. "Go change," he waved his brother away.

"Into what?" Dean demanded.

"Wear the shirt and tie with your jeans, Dad. That will look more natural," Rae suggested.

"Forget the tie," Sam suggested. "You always look like you're choking when you wear a tie."

"Fine," Dean sighed, leaving the room. When he came back in jeans and the dress shirt, he looked between them. "So, are you two good now?"

Sam and Rae nodded. "Yeah, we're good."

"How about me?" He asked, turning around.

"You always look good Dad," Rae said, jumping up to give him a peck on the cheek.

"I knew I kept you around for a reason," Dean grinned down at her. "Okay, we better go. Don't want to be late for my first teacher chewing out session."

**-----------**

Miss Grimmault sat at her desk, watching the wall clock. The Cooper family should have been here five minutes ago. With a snarl, she began to stack her papers. She really wanted to meet this family before calling child services. It was obvious Sammie Cooper was a neglected child, and probably emotionally abused if not physically, but she liked to check out the parents before reporting it. That usually confirmed it for her.

The sound of conversation in the hall drew her attention. Well, maybe the Coopers were just late. That was not exactly a point in their favor, however, but at least they showed up.

"Oh, come on, Rae. You can't be serious," a man's voice echoed in the empty hall. "Do you really think a werewolf could take a zombie?"

"Only while it's a werewolf," a girl's voice answered as the door opened. Miss Grimmault had to look up to see the girl was her student. She never heard Sammie Cooper speak before. Two men accompanied her. Both were tall, but one was much taller than the other. The tall one had one of those stylish, shaggy haircuts that she disapproved of. The other one had a sensible short hairstyle. But where was the mother?

"Miss Grimmault?" The one with short hair approached her. "Nice to meet you, I'm Rae's Dad, Dean Cooper. What's this all about?"

She shook his hand, watching them with her keen eyes. "I have some concerns about your daughter," she informed him. She wondered if he knew just how close to a state investigation he was.

"Where do you sit, Sunshine?" the tall one asked Sammie. She led him to a chair in the back. He shook his head. "You should try to sit up front. It's easier to pay attention that way."

"Dad said he always sat in back," she argued. Again, Miss Grimmault checked to be certain it was her student who spoke.

"Excuse me?" The father stared at her. "What concerns?"

"Oh," she pulled her attention away from the other two. "Have a seat," she motioned to the student desk opposite her. He scowled at it before sitting on the desk part. The taller man noticed and tried to sit in the next chair, but he just did not fit. He copied the father's technique. Sammie sat in a chair behind the two men.

"May I ask where Sammie's mother is?" she demanded. The conference form requested that the entire family be present. She did not approve of substitute family members.

The father jerked his head at the taller man. "Right there."

The taller man blushed. He leaned forward to shake her hand as well. "I'm her Uncle Sam."

"So you two are…"

"Brothers," they answered together.

The look on the father's face was pure annoyance. "What concerns?" he demanded.

"First off, Sammie does not participate in any class discussions. Class participation is twenty percent of her grade." Miss Grimmault felt entirely justified in her policy; it helped weed out the students who cheated on their homework.

"That may be because we've always homeschooled her," Uncle Sam explained. "This is her first time in a regular classroom. I'm sure if you give her a little time, she'll start to participate more." He shot her a look which had Sammie squirming in her seat.

"I take it there's more?" The father asked, arms crossed over his chest. He did not seem like one to be put off. She had met his type before.

Miss Grimmault pulled out one of Sammie's in-class papers. "As a warm-up exercise, to gauge my students' abilities, I give the same assignment at the beginning of every year. I ask my students to write a paper, one page minimum, about their hero. Here is what your daughter wrote. I think you'll agree that it is rather, um, disturbing."

She handed the paper over to the father. He took it with a guarded expression. She watched his reaction carefully as he read. "Sam, you and Rae go wait out in the hall."

Uncle Sam leaned over his brother's shoulder. She noticed his eyes widen before he turned to Sammie. "Come on, Sunshine." He motioned to her.

Sammie jumped out of her seat, casting a doubtful look at her father who was still reading, before muttering "Yes, sir." They left the classroom.

Miss Grimmault waited for the father to say something else. He flipped to the second page and kept reading. When he was done he folded his daughter's paper in half and leveled his eyes on her.

"Which part did you find disturbing?" He asked, his face hard. "How graphic it was, or the fact it was the truth?"

His reaction startled her, to say the least. "Excuse me? Are you trying to tell me that this ridiculous nonsense is true?"

"Miss," he consulted the conference paper in his pocket, "Grimmault, if this had been a homework assignment, I can guarantee you that paper never would have left the house. I would have insisted Rae choose to write about someone else as her hero. But I must admit, this surprised me." He looked down at the paper clutched in his hand. "She hasn't talked about what happened in years. I guess I thought she forgot." He shook his head, looking up at her again. "Maybe I hoped she forgot. I should have known better."

The sadness in his face was the first convincing thing she had seen so far. "According to her paper, both her parents were eaten by the bear."

"Mauled to death first," he said with a nod. "But yes, eaten. Right in front of her." His eyes had a distant look to them. He shook it off, the hardness returning to his countenance. "And?"

"And you saved her? You were hunting the bear?" She pressed, unable to believe any of the child's paper. She had assumed it was the fanciful tale of a child who needed attention. The idea any of it could be true never crossed her mind.

He nodded, not breaking eye contact. "I found her in the cave. Next to what was left of her parents."

"The part about burning the bear?"

He shrugged. "It's dead. That's all that matters."

"And you adopted her?"

He cleared his throat. "That's pretty much the way it happened." He held up the paper.

She shook her head, leaning back in her chair. "Now I'm embarrassed. Between that paper and the way your daughter acts in class, I thought she was the victim of neglect. I was ready to call child services."

She watched as his eyes hardened on her. "I'm glad her teachers are so concerned." Before she could say anything else, he continued. "She didn't speak for quite a while afterwards. Then, for years, the only people she would talk to were me and my brother." He stared at her. She wondered if she was expected to speak now. "So I'm not really surprised that Rae doesn't participate in class. Hell, I didn't and I never experienced half what she did."

There was an edge to his voice. "You didn't experience half what she did? What does that mean?"

He stood, folding Sammie's paper in half again and sliding it into his pocket. "It means she's in the right family." His answer was cryptic, to say the least. "Oh, you don't mind if I keep this, do you?" He leaned close to whisper, "I have a box I keep stuff like this in."

Miss Grimmault stared at him for a long moment. "May I ask you a question about Sammie's homelife?"

"It's Sammie Rae, and we call her Rae." He pointed to her notebook. "You might want to write that down."

"I take it she's named after her uncle?"

He shrugged, glancing swiftly to the closed door.

"How often is she alone in the afternoons?"

"She's not," he replied. "My brother and I set up our work schedules around school hours. I drop her off and he picks her up." His head tilted to one side. "Still calling child services?"

She cleared her throat. "Uh, no. Not at this time. But I will be keeping an eye on her."

"I'm glad her teachers are so concerned," he repeated. "Anything else?" He moved swiftly to the door. Mr. Cooper motioned for her to keep talking.

"Well, I would like to know what that conversation you three were having when you came in was about."

She watched as he jerked open the door to her classroom. Uncle Sam and Sammie stood side by side, nearly falling through the doorway.

"Well?" he demanded of his family.

"Oh, uh, we were talking about…" Uncle Sam's voice trailed off.

"Werewolves versus zombies, right?" Mr. Cooper asked Sammie.

"Yes, sir. And I still think a werewolf would win." She said defiantly.

Mr. Cooper shook his head. "But zombies are already dead. How could a werewolf kill it? Plus the zombie, even dead, is smarter than a werewolf."

"Your dad has a good point," Uncle Sam pointed out.

"Werewolves are bad-ass," Sammie insisted. "It could kick some dead guy's ass."

"You'd be surprised how fast that dead guy can run," Uncle Sam said, before his eyes drifted over to see Miss Grimmault watching them. "Uh, hypothetically, of course."

"Of course," she said with a nod. She would not be tossing her file on Sammie Cooper just yet.

Sammie rolled her eyes. "Are we done yet, Dad?" she whispered.

Mr. Cooper looked back at her. "Are we done yet?"

Miss Grimmaul nodded. "Pretty much. But Coach Green asked me to pass on a message."

The father's eyebrow climbed again. "Yes?"

"He'd like Sammie to try out for the track team. Apparently she was very impressive in gym class this week." She relayed the message, once again regretting that Coach Green was so good looking. Waste of a perfectly good man. She was certain his boyfriend would disagree.

"That's a great idea!" Uncle Sam looked pleased.

"We'll talk about at dinner," Sammie's father replied, frowning. He looked down at her. "And you're ordering, for all of us."

Sammie sighed. "Yes, sir." She sounded disappointed, but Miss Grimmault saw the girl's arm wind around her father's waist. She also noticed him drape an arm over Sammie's shoulders as they walked out. The werewolf versus zombie argument started up again when the Coopers thought they were out of earshot. Miss Grimmault shook her head, the number of parents who did not understand how far sound really carried in school hallways was amazing. She added a few lines to her notes on Sammie Cooper before putting that file away. It was a good thing that girl had someone to keep an eye out for her, considering that strange family. She was not willing to call child services yet. Not just yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, you crazy Sammie Rae fans, here's the next chapter. Probably won't be an update tomorrow since taxes are due and I haven't started mine yet, so I hope this will hold you for a day!

**Chapter 2**

Rae sat in English class, in her usual seat in the back, twirling her pen between her fingers. Miss Grimmault was terribly boring, especially when she read Shakespeare. Uncle Sam did it so much better, and his discussions were always more interesting. Her teacher just finished reading the big death scene of Romeo and Juliet and was attempting to lure the class into a big discussion.

"Sammie?" Miss Grimmault called on her. "Why don't you share your thoughts on Romeo and Juliet with us? What did you think of the way they died? Tragically romantic?"

Rae shook her head. "They're morons." When a few of her classmates' heads turned in her direction, she realized this may have been her first time to speak in class.

"Excuse me? Morons? Please explain, Sammie." Miss Grimmault's foot tapped the floor, a sure sign of irritation.

"Romeo sees Juliet lying there and assumes she's dead. He never checks to see if she's breathing and he never gets a doctor to check her out. So he drinks poison because he assumed that's what she did, even though they planned with the monk to fake their deaths. Moron. Then Juliet wakes up, figures out that Romeo drank poison but instead of running out to get someone who would have an antidote, she just stabs herself. She's a moron. It hadn't been that long, he was probably still alive and could have been saved, but because she's a moron too, they both die. Tragic? Yes. Romantic? No, stupidity is never romantic." When she finished, Rae realized her arms were hugging her chest and she felt sweaty. The room seemed smaller too.

Miss Grimmault had a strange look on her face. "Interesting perspective," she said. Then her teacher's eyes darted through the class. "Anyone else?"

A hand went up in front of her. A guy called Kevin spoke up. "Miss Grimmault? I think they're morons, too. But considering that they both come from stupid families, I guess that's to be expected."

Miss Grimmault's eyes widened. "Excuse me, Kevin? Their families were stupid?"

"Yeah," Kevin turned in his seat to throw Rae a grin as he spoke. "They had a huge feud, right? And they'd rather kill each other than even call a truce. They're no better than gangs. You join a gang, and odds are you're gonna die. What about if you're born to the gang? It was only a matter of time, Miss Grimmault." He shook his head.

"Yeah," someone else spoke up. Rae could not remember the girl's name. "Plus, they went to their parents and were told no just because of who their families were. So instead of just running away together, they let some monk talk them into playing dead, and then fall for it themselves? I think I agree with Sammie over there. They're morons."

"But what about…" Miss Grimmault was interrupted by the bell ringing. "I want to pick this up next class! Don't forget where we were!"

Rae stuffed her notebook into her bookbag. She slung the strap over her shoulder as she hurried out of the classroom.

"Sammie! Wait up!" A boy's voice called out. Confused, she slowed down and looked back. Kevin shoved another student aside to get to her. "Hey, that was great! What you did in English."

"What did I do?" She asked, heading to her history class.

"You stumped The Grimm!" She glanced over to see Kevin grinning. "My brother had her two years ago and he's still complaining."

"She doesn't do Shakespeare worth a damn," Rae agreed, more than a little surprised to hear herself in a for real conversation with somebody who wasn't Dad or Uncle Sam.

"I haven't met anybody who does," Kevin replied, keeping in step with her quick pace.

"My uncle does. I guess I never really appreciated what a good teacher he is before now." She spotted her history classroom ahead.

"I, uh, heard a rumor you were home-schooled. That true?" Kevin asked as they both went into her history class. He took the seat next to her.

"Yeah. Don't you need to get to class?" She asked, pulling out her history book.

He smiled. "I am in class. We have history together, too."

"Oh." She mentally kicked herself for not noticing. If Dad found out, she would be doing memorization exercises for weeks. "Sorry."

Kevin shrugged. "Think you'll have anything enlightening to share in here?"

She shook her head. "Not unless we're covering serial killers."

His face registered his surprise. "You know about serial killers?"

Rae stared back. "Doesn't everybody?" Really, she thought, doesn't everybody?

"You, uh, want to eat lunch with us today?" he asked. "My friends and I sit at the far end of the cafeteria, by the windows. You know, if you want."

Rae shrugged. Was this the making friends thing her uncle was always nagging her about?

Their history teacher started class by breaking them into groups of four. They were to present a chapter from the history book to the class, and they could be as imaginative and creative as possible. Anything to help their fellow students remember the lesson.

"Let's make a crossword," Amy suggested. Amy was a chubby girl with dark hair and thick glasses. Rae's impression of her was a studious girl who was largely ignored by other students.

"Boring," Kevin sighed. "Nobody will remember a crossword."

"They will if we make it difficult enough," Amy argued.

"How about a game? Like a quiz show?" Brad asked. Brad was a thin, lanky boy with light brown hair. He struck her as an all around average kid, nothing too outstanding about him.

"Any ideas, Sammie?" Kevin asked her. He seemed to pick up on the fact she didn't offer ideas, that she had to be asked, pretty quick.

"The news?" She said, not expecting anyone to like it.

"What do you mean?" Amy asked.

"Well, we could all be newscasters reporting on the story. Do it like it's really happening, live." Once again Rae was surprised to hear herself speaking.

"I like that," Amy nodded enthusiastically. "We can do on the scene reports, one of us can be an eyewitness."

"I want to do the weather," Brad announced. They all looked at him. "What? I can make it historical. Like flurries of invaders and hailing cannonballs, stuff like that."

"As long as you stick with our time period," Kevin said. "I don't think the pilgrims used cannons."

"They were around!" Brad replied hotly.

"He's right," Rae put in. "It just wasn't cost effective to take cannons with them. Not to mention most of them were religious refugees and indebted prisoners."

Kevin pointed at Brad. "So no cannons."

"Somebody had cannons," Brad mumbled.

"We're going to need to get together outside of school to work on this," Amy said, pulling a clean page out of her notebook. "This idea is too complicated to put together in just two classroom hours. We should try to meet today after school."

"I can stay," Kevin replied with a nod. "I can ride the activities bus home."

"My mom gets off a little before five, so she can pick me up." Amy said.

"I just live a few blocks from school. I walk, so I can stay," Brad said with a nod.

"No way," Rae shook her head. "My uncle picks me up when the last bells rings. On the dot."

"Can't you call him? Tell him you need to stay late?" Kevin asked.

"This was your idea," Amy argued.

"I'm not allowed to use my phone during school hours," Rae said with a sigh. "By the time I can use it, Uncle Sam will be here."

"So call early," Brad said with a shrug.

Rae felt her eyes go wide. "I can't do that!" she hissed.

Brad's forehead scrunched. "Why not?"

"Dad said so. If I call early," she shook her head. It wouldn't be pretty. Uncle Sam would totally freak and he'd tell Dad and… She shook her head again. "No," she said firmly. Then an idea occurred to her. "Unless you all feel like working somewhere with plenty of cookies, chips and juice?"

"Inviting us over?" Kevin asked. Rae nodded at him. "Works for me." He snagged the clean page from Amy. "Write down your address and phone number, so I can call my mom during lunch with it."

"Three times," Amy said, tapping the paper. "So, who wants to be the anchor?"

-------------

Rae balanced her lunch tray as she scanned the cafeteria for an empty table. It was easier to sit alone than near an established group. It amazed her that after only a month, such tight knit groups could form. She did watch the changing social dynamics, how kids would switch tables and groups periodically until they found one where they were most comfortable. For her part, she usually just read a book.

She spotted an empty table at the far end of the cafeteria and headed for it.

"Hey! Sammie!"

She hated people calling her that. Dad only used her first name when he was worried or giving her an unbreakable order. Each time she heard it, her heart sped up and her breathing changed. Her eyes sought out the source. It was Kevin. He waved from the next row of tables. With a sigh she headed over, mainly so he wouldn't shout her name again.

"What?" she asked as she approached the table.

"Have a seat." He motioned to an empty space opposite him. "This is Bob, Johnny and Greg. I've been telling them about you."

Rae set her tray down. "Like what?" How was she worth talking about?

"How you took down The Grimm," Bob grinned. "Did you really tell her Romeo and Juliet were morons?"

Rae nodded. She stared down at her tray, trying to decide if she wanted to try the burger she was pretty sure had no meat content or the tater tots fried beyond recognition first.

"It was great," Kevin said. "Then other kids in class joined in. As a class we compared the families to gangs and decided everybody was just stupid." He chuckled. "You should have seen Grimm's face."

"I have her after lunch," Johnny said. "I'm going to do the gang thing." The other boys just looked at him. "I will! Really!"

Greg snorted. "Who the hell is that?" he asked, looking over Kevin's shoulder.

Rae looked up. "Amy?"

"There you are!" Amy shouldered Johnny to the side. He grimaced at her. "I've been looking all over for you. Hey, look at that, most of our group is here." She grinned at Rae. "So, what are we talking about?"

"The Grimm," Kevin replied. She was having trouble identifying the expression on his face, but he did not look happy to have Amy sitting beside him.

"I heard about that!" Amy said enthusiastically. "Somebody in the morning class told her Romeo and Juliet were stupid."

"Morons," Rae corrected.

"What?" Amy asked, attacking her mashed potatoes.

"I said they were morons. Kevin said the families were stupid." Rae tried a tater tot. It was really, really crunchy. She hoped it did not crack a tooth.

"I can not believe the people who took down The Grimm are in my history group!" Amy bounced on her seat, obviously excited.

Kevin tore his eyes from the sight to look at Rae. "So, Sammie, what's your uncle like? Do you need to warn us about anything?"

Rae froze. "What do you mean?"

"Well, whenever people come over to my house, I always warn them that my dad likes to walk around in a bathing suit and an unbuttoned shirt. Year round." He rolled his eyes.

Rae laughed. "I'll keep that in mind." She shook her head. "No, nothing like that. Uncle Sam is a doll. If anything, we'll have to kick him out of the room so he doesn't take over our project."

"Didn't you say you were home-schooled?" Kevin asked. "What was that like?"

Rae shrugged. "It'd be easier to ask me what school is like. For me, the other was normal." She glanced around the noisy cafeteria. "This place is nuts."

"Hear, hear," Amy said, banging a hand on the table. "I tried to talk my parents into home-schooling me, but they said the kids who graduated from high school at the top of their class got the best scholarships. So here I am."

"What's your excuse?" Kevin asked, still dropping odd looks towards Amy.

"Uncle Sam says I need better social skills." Rae picked up her burger. "Dad would have let me continue the home-schooling and take the GED."

"Bummer," Johnny put in. "What did your mom say about it?"

"Nothing," Rae said biting into her burger.

"Why not?" Amy tore into the mystery meatloaf with relish.

Rae swallowed the tasteless lump in her mouth. "She's dead. I'm adopted."

An uncomfortable silence settled on the table. Rae glanced around, confused by it. When she realized it was because of her, a lump settled in her stomach. "Dude. I was six. Get over it."

"Dude?" Bob laughed. "Who talks like that?"

Rae glared at him. "My family. You got a problem with that? Dude?"

"No," Kevin glared at Bob, too. "He doesn't. Right, Bob?"

"Right, right. Sorry." Bob held up both hands.

"And while we're on the subject, call me Rae. Not Sammie." She took another bite out of her pseudo-burger.

"Why Rae?" Amy asked. Rae suspected Amy might explode if she could not speak on a regular basis.

"It's my name."

"The teachers call you Sammie," Kevin said, tilting his head to one side.

"It's Sammie Rae. Dad and Uncle Sam call me Rae." She choked back another bite before setting the burger down for the last time. "We are so going out for good burgers tonight," she mumbled.

"So, let me get this straight," Johnny turned to face her, "you live with your dad and uncle? Are they brothers?"

"Duh!" Rae shot him a look. "What else?"

"Nothing," Johnny shook his head, becoming very interested in his own pseudo-burger. "Nothing."

"Hey, have you guys heard about the librarian haunting the school library?" Amy asked, oblivious to any tension at the table.

"What?" Kevin's head snapped to the side. "Where do you get this stuff?"

Amy shrugged. "Everybody's talking about it."

Rae decided to bring that topic up again at home, in front of Uncle Sam. While they were eating, and discussing whether or not certain things meant a ghost was haunting the library, both Kevin and Amy left to call their parents about the study session at her house this afternoon. At least two members of their group were coming.

"You sure you don't want to call your uncle to clear it with him?" Amy asked, worried.

"No." Rae insisted. "If I call him during the day, he'll freak." When the other faces looked at her strangely, she said, "My uncle and dad are kinda protective." She waved a hand. "It'll be fine. Uncle Sam will be ecstatic."


	3. Chapter 3

Well, the alerts are still down, but I usually post the next chapter quicker than this, so here it is!

**Chapter 3**

Sam pulled out to the pick up area of the high school. He was gratified to see Rae standing talking to several other students. Finally! The group approached the car.

"Hey Sunshine! You ready?" He called out the open window.

"Uncle Sam? I have to do a group project for history. This is my group. Can we do it at our house?" It sounded like she had already promised her group.

Sam grinned. "Of course! Climb in." He waited until all the kids had piled into the back of the Impala, grateful their second car, the clunker, had been acting up yesterday forcing Dean to drive it to work to check it out. "Do I need to take anyone home, too?" he asked, glancing in the rearview mirror at the three teens in the back seat.

"We've already called our parents," the girl with glasses answered. "We each have a ride home."

"Sounds good. Rae?" he turned the corner off school grounds. "You going to make the introductions?"

"Sorry. Everybody, this is my Uncle Sam. Uncle Sam, that's Amy, Kevin and Brad."

"Nice to meet you," Sam grinned into the mirror. He could not force the wide smile from his face. Okay, so it was just a study group, but it was a start! He could barely contain his excitement as he made a mental inventory of the snack foods at their small apartment. There was probably enough to sustain four teenagers for the afternoon, but either he or Dean would need to make a store run tomorrow.

"So, Uncle Sam," the boy called Kevin leaned over the front seat, "what do you do? Sammie said - uh, sorry - I mean Rae said you used to home-school her. What do you do now?"

"I work at the library," Sam replied, still unable to rid himself of the silly grin. "That one," he pointed to the small branch library which stood between their apartment and the school.

"What do you at a library?" The boy named Brad asked. He did not sound impressed.

"Mostly I help people doing research, but when I'm not doing that I reshelf books, organize research materials," he shrugged, "stuff like that.'

"What does your dad do?" Kevin asked Rae.

"Fixes stuff," she replied, looking out the window.

"He's a mechanic," Sam corrected.

"What kind of research?" Amy asked from behind him.

"What?" Sam pulled into the apartment parking lot.

"What kind of research do you help people with?" she asked as she hopped out of the car.

"Whatever," he informed her. It was true. He could help people find nearly anything they needed. Sam led the teens to their apartment, hoping Dean had not left any socks in the kitchen sink or underwear lying around. A quick glance inside told him there was no underwear problem. He opened the door wide for Rae's study group.

Rae blew through the small den into the kitchen, dropping her bookbag against the wall. "Uncle Sam? I kinda promised drinks and snacks." She did not look up.

"No problem." Sam went about filling bowls with chips and cups with juice as the kids situated themselves at the table. As he set out the snack, he eyed Amy's notes. "So, what kind of history project is it?"

Amy grinned. "We have to present a chapter to the class, so we're doing it like a live news report. Kevin is the anchor and Brad is the weatherman," she shook her head at that one, "and Rae and I are on the scene reporters."

Sam felt his eyebrows climb. "Rae? You're going to speak in front of the class?"

"Why not?" Kevin asked, grabbing a handful of chips. "I mean, after she shut down The Grimm this morning." He laughed, the other two teens joining him.

"The Grimm?" Sam looked around the table, noticing Rae's bright red cheeks. "Miss Grimmault? The English teacher?"

Kevin nodded. "It was awesome."

"You talked back to your teacher?" Sam asked pointedly, frowning.

"No, sir," Rae shook her head, her eyes wide. "She asked me a question and I answered it."

"What question?" Sam asked again. Why was the child being so evasive? "Are we going to be called in for another parent teacher conference?"

She shrugged. "She asked what I thought of Romeo and Juliet."

Sam took the verbal hit and winced. He had an idea of exactly what happened. "And you said?"

"Morons!" Kevin laughed. "She called them morons! Then we got into a big discussion about how the families were like gangs and how stupid everybody in the play was. It was great! Best English class I've ever had."

"Wish I was in that class," Brad mumbled, staring down at his history notes. "We had to talk about how tragic everything was." He rolled his eyes. "Like anybody actually acts like that."

"Not one of his better plays," Sam said with a nod. "But you should remember, in Shakespeare's time, all the parts were played by men."

They all stared at him. "What?" Amy asked.

"All the parts were played by men, so it is possible it was written as more of a comedic tragedy than just a tragedy." Sam helped himself to some of the chips.

"Told you he was better than Grimm," Rae said to Kevin. She was grinning ear to ear.

"Maybe we should come over here to discuss Shakespeare," Amy said. "Then we'd have better ammo to use in class against The Grimm."

"Or we could work on our history assignment," Rae slammed her hand on her history book, glaring at Amy.

Sam reached out to rub her shoulder. "Relax, Sunshine. I'll go watch some tv while you all work. Holler if you need anything."

As he left the room, Sam wondered over Rae's odd reactions. Then again, he had never really seen her interact with anyone else, so all of her reactions should seem odd. He tried to assure himself that Rae would improve the more she was around kids her own age. When he turned on the television, he turned the sound down low enough to still follow Modern Marvels while he listened in on the kitchen conversations.

"What did I say wrong?" Amy demanded. "I would like to discuss Shakespeare with someone other than The Grimm."

"You're probably the only one," Brad shot back. "Now, somebody check out what I have for the weather. Flurries of Torries over the north east. Not bad, huh?"

Bricks? There's a whole Modern Marvels episode devoted to bricks?

"You're going to have to be one of the eye witnesses we interview," Rae told him.

"Nah. I just want to do the weather." Brad replied.

When you mix in straw with the mud, it becomes the first composite brick. Well, that makes sense.

"Brad," Kevin interjected, "we're all doing multiple parts. You have to do your share."

"Fine. What do you want me to be?" Brad sighed heavily, obviously agreeing against his will.

Sam kept one eye on the clock as he listened in, unsure of how his brother would react when he saw the small apartment swarmed with teens. Okay, so four should not constitute a swarm, but still. Dean usually did not get home until after six, so the kids still had plenty of time. By five, he was going to have to tell them to start calling their rides. Not that Dean would go ballistic or anything, but considering two of the kids were boys, it might not be pretty.

Recently, Dean had noticed a boy watching Rae in a restaurant. The moment Rae was out of sight to use the restroom, Dean had charged over to the boy and explained in no uncertain terms that he should keep his eyes to himself. The poor kid had been scared half to death and his parents had not been in much better shape. Better to avoid any confrontation completely.

The front door slammed open just after four thirty, jarring Sam from Modern Marvels: Concrete and eavesdropping on the history project. Dean burst through the door covered in his usual grease, oil and sweat.

"I'm home!" he announced loudly. His eyes leveled on Sam. "Dude, that junker is history. Not even worth fixing."

"In the kitchen!" Rae shouted.

"Uh," Sam glanced back at the kitchen, knowing he would be unable to hide the history project now, "so what are we going to do?"

Dean sighed, shaking his head. He pulled both shirts he wore off, standing in the middle of the den. "I don't know. I spent the afternoon looking for anything halfway decent. There's nothing in this damn town. I may have to get something with a wrecked body, yank the motor and drop it into the clunker."

Sam stood, trying to shield the kitchen from view. "And in the meantime?"

"Carpool, dude." Dean shrugged. He tried to step past Sam, but Sam moved right into his path. "Dude, is there a problem?"

"No." Sam shook his head. "No problem. Why don't you grab your shower now?"

"Because I'd like to say hello to Rae?" Dean glared at him. He tried to step the other way, but Sam moved to stand in the way again. "Sam. Something you want to tell me?"

"Not really." Sam wondered how quick he could get at least the boys out of the apartment during Dean's shower. He figured they could wait for their rides in the parking lot.

"Dad! In here!" Rae shouted again.

Dean put out a greasy hand to shove Sam aside. Sam jumped back before Dean could touch him, not wanting fresh stains on his clothes. Throwing a withering glare, Dean walked past him into the kitchen. With a sigh, Sam followed. At least he could do damage control.

"Hey, Sunshine!" Dean strolled into the kitchen. He stopped short when he saw the other kids. An odd expression crossed his face, but he recovered quickly. He walked over to Rae and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "What's this?"

"We have to do a project for history class. This is my group." She pointed out each person. "Amy. Brad. Kevin."

Dean smiled at them. "I'd shake hands, but I haven't cleaned up yet. Gimme ten."

"Okay, Dad." Rae's eyes dropped back to her papers.

With a look, Dean told Sam to follow him. Sam gave the kids a weak smile before following his brother out of the room.

"What the hell, Sam?" Dean demanded from the relative privacy of the hall outside the bathroom.

"What?" Sam asked, as though this were the most natural thing in the world. "It's schoolwork."

"You could have called to tell me!" Dean hissed. "You let me just walk in there like this!" He motioned to himself with his free hand. "Covered in grease and half naked. Lord knows what those kids think of me now!"

Sam felt his mouth opening and closing, but no words were coming out because his brain was stuck in neutral. Dean shot him a final glare before slamming the bathroom door shut. Sam stood in the hall until the sound of running water brought him back to his senses.

"I can't believe that's your dad!" Amy's voice carried clearly into the den, which was only a few feet from the kitchen. "I want to marry a mechanic when I'm older. Period."

"Why's that?" Brad asked.

"Did you see him?" Amy shrieked. "He's gorgeous! Rae, is your dad married? Seeing anybody?"

"Uh, no." Rae's voice sounded uncertain. "He goes on dates, but never with the same woman twice."

"Oh, we have to hook him up with my mom." There was a pause. "What? My parents are divorced!"

"Where do you get this stuff?" Kevin demanded. "Leave her poor dad alone! I mean, obviously the guy works hard for a living. Give him a break."

"Besides, he's not that good looking," Brad put in. Sam had to chuckle at that. Typical guy reaction.

Dean padded out a few minutes later in clean jeans and t-shirt, hair still damp, and barefoot. He threw Sam another look, which Sam was pretty sure could stop a vampire dead in its tracks, before heading straight into the kitchen. Sam hovered nearby, figuring this was when there might be fallout.

"Clean enough?" Dean asked, flashing his hustling grin as he walked in on the study group.

"Sure, Dad." Rae jumped up to give him a quick hug.

"Okay, introduce me again." Dean waved to the other kids.

"Amy." Dean shook her hand, smiling warmly. Amy melted. "Brad." Dean's smile looked forced as he shook the boy's hand. Brad grimaced slightly. "Kevin." Same thing happened with Kevin, only Kevin did not grimace but Sam noticed he shook out his hand after Dean let go.

"Nice meeting you. How much longer you plan on working tonight?" Dean directed their attention to the clock. It was nearly five now.

"My mom's picking me up at five," Amy breathed, looking at Dean with dreamy eyes.

"Same here," Kevin said.

"My dad will be here about then, too," Brad answered. Sam leaned back to see Brad massaging his hand under the table.

"So no one needs a ride? That's cool." Dean grabbed one of the kitchen stools and pulled it up next to the counter. Rae jumped up without being asked and rushed to the refrigerator. She pulled out a bottle of beer and handed it to her dad before returning to the table. "Thanks." Dean smiled, opening it. The other kids were still staring at him. "You have at least ten minutes to work. Go ahead." He waved at them. "Work."

The boys exchanged dark looks before hunching back over the table. Amy still stared at Dean as if nothing else in the room existed.

"So, we pretty much have everything planned out, right?" Kevin asked. "We all know what we're doing, just not exactly what we're going to say yet. Right?"

"Right." Rae agreed. She nudged Amy. "Right?"

"Yeah, sure." Amy's gaze never wandered. Dean seemed to be soaking it up.

"Okay." Brad nodded. "So after we come up with our lines, are we going to have to memorize them? I'm not sure I can do that."

"Use notecards," Sam suggested. Everyone except Amy looked at him. "You can write your lines down on notecards and just hold the cards during your presentation. That's what you do in debate."

"Were you on the debate team?" Kevin asked.

"One year," Sam nodded. "It'll work. Have you given any thought to having commercials?"

"Commercials?" Kevin looked at him as if he just announced he were from another planet. "What do you mean?"

"Well, if you have time that is, you could do some commercial breaks. Like after the segment where the farmer is interviewed, you can have a commercial about broken down horses costing valuable plow time or buying an indentured servant coming over on the next ship, stuff that would set the period and stick in the students' minds." Sam thought it would work, especially since they were already doing a newscast. What a great idea!

"Not sure we'd have time," Kevin said. "We'll have to ask the teacher tomorrow what our time limit is."

"You ask," Rae said, making a note on her paper. "You know, we could do a bar commercial. Most of the patriots met and passed on information in bars."

"Now you're talking!" Dean said with a grin.

"Yeah," Amy sighed. Dean lounged on the bar stool. Sam hoped his brother was at least a little uncomfortable with all the attention of this minor.

A knock on the door sounded the end of this session. Sam went to answer the door while Dean kept his kitchen vigil.


	4. Chapter 4

Posting this with Chapter 5. I got carried away thinking about the next chapter and wrote it before I finished this one, that's why it has taken so long to post. Ch4 contains all the setup for Ch5 and future chapters. Thanks to everyone who is following this despite the lack of alerts. What do we have to do anyway? Ritual sacrifice? Offer a virgin? (Stop complaining Sci, it's free.) I'll shut up now.

**Chapter 4**

When Sam opened the door he knew the woman standing in the hall was Amy's mother. There was not a doubt in his mind. They shared the same black hair and weak, dark eyes. She smiled warmly at him.

"Hello." Her voice held a confidence he did not think possible in such a plain package.

"You must be Amy's mom. Come in," Sam opened the door wide.

She brushed his arm as she walked in. Sam resisted rolling his eyes, imagining what she might be like in a moment if mother and daughter shared the same taste in men.

"Amy?" She called out.

"In here, Mom!"

Amy must not be willing to take her eyes off Dean yet, Sam surmised. Sam offered her a smile as he led Amy's mother the few steps to the kitchen. "They've been working really hard," Sam said as they stepped into the kitchen.

"Amy. Are you ready?" her mother sounded a little annoyed, probably at being made to walk all the way inside the small apartment.

"Sure, Mom." Amy hopped up from the table. "This is Kevin, Brad, Rae, and Rae's dad." She pointed out Dean.

Amy's mother turned around to greet Dean. "Rae's Dad." She said formally, holding out a hand.

Dean shook it with his free hand, his eyes never wavering from the two boys still seated at the table. "Amy's Mom."

She laughed, turning to face Sam. "And you are?"

"Uh, sorry. I'm Rae's uncle, Sam." He shook her hand.

"Uncle, huh?" Amy's mom sighed, looking him up and down. "Too bad."

He heard Dean stifle a chuckle. "Hey, Sam? You got plans for Friday night?"

"Uh, no. Why?" Sam had the distinct impression from the amusement on Dean's face that he was going to regret that answer.

"I got a date." Bright, wide Dean smirk. Oh, he was so going to pay for this. "Can you stay home with Rae?"

He felt more than saw Amy's mom eyeing him again. Sam cleared his throat, throwing Dean a glare. "Sure, no problem."

"Uncle Sam? Can we go see that movie?" Rae asked from the table.

Somehow Sam could not stay mad, even at Dean, when she looked at him like that. "Sure, Sunshine. Sounds good."

"What movie?" Kevin asked.

"None of your business," Dean snapped at him.

"Dean!" Sam reprimanded.

"What? It's not like he's going with you," Dean's eyes darted to Sam briefly before settling back on the boy.

"Actually, any of Rae's friends are welcome if she wants to invite them." Sam faced his brother, glaring.

"I'm sure my folks wouldn't mind," Kevin said quickly, leaning on the table closer to Rae. Dean's eyes narrowed as he followed the movement.

"And I'd be happy to help chaperone," Amy's mother put in before either Sam or Rae could respond.

"Then it's settled," Amy said decisively. "Except for you, Brad. You coming?"

Brad stared around the room. "I think I'm waiting for someone to tell me what to do."

"And I think I just cancelled my date," Dean growled, staring at poor Kevin.

"Too late, we've made plans," Sam pointed out quickly. "Brad, do you want me to ask your dad if you can go?"

Sam heard a thump, making him think someone kicked Brad under the table. When Brad shot Kevin a nasty look, Sam knew who it was. "Yeah, okay," Brad mumbled.

---------

Friday at lunch Rae squeezed in next to Kevin at the table. Amy was already sitting across from her.

"You mad at me?" She asked, looking at their blank faces.

"You might have mentioned that you had a problem with public speaking," Amy said, glaring.

"I think it went pretty well," Kevin said. His knee knocked softly against hers. "You know, considering it was your first class project, first time to talk in front of the class, and all that."

Amy's mouth twisted to one side. "I never thought of it like that." Her head waggled side to side. "Yeah, okay, when you look at it like that, I guess it did go pretty well."

"Hey! Can I join?" Brad stood behind Amy.

"Sure, Brad. What's up?" Kevin motioned to the empty spot beside Amy.

Brad grinned across the table. "Rae, I want you in all my group projects." He grinned.

"Here we go," she mumbled.

"No, really." Brad's grin widened. "I just talked to our history teacher in the lunch line. He was really impressed with the whole idea we had, the newscast. He said he wants to videotape it, especially if Rae might feel more comfortable talking to a camera instead of an audience." Eager eyes took them all in. "Well?"

"I dunno. Maybe." Rae admitted, wondering why he looked so excited. Brad was the least excitable person in their group. "Why?"

"We all got A's!" Brad beamed at them. "Mr. Steinway wants to tape it to use in future classes. We're famous."

Kevin snorted. "I wouldn't call that famous."

"Kevin," Brad glared at him. "I'm not the best student. Just let me enjoy this, okay? I bet my folks insist on taking me out to dinner or something to celebrate."

"But not tonight," Kevin insisted. "Tonight we're all going to the movies. Right?"

"Right." Brad beamed again. "Man, I can't wait to get home and tell my parents about this. Maybe I should go call them?"

Rae laughed at him. "Dude, you need more excitement in your life."

"Like what?" Kevin asked.

"How about that ghost in the library?" Amy asked, eyes shining.

"Not the ghost thing again?" Kevin groaned.

"Seriously, I've been doing some research." Amy reached into the bag by her feet. She pulled out a blue folder. Setting it in the center of the table, she flipped it open. "Look, a librarian really did die in our school library, about ten years ago. Officially it was a heart attack."

"Officially?" Rae asked. "You think there's more to it?"

Amy's voice dropped. "I think she was murdered."

"Where do you get this stuff?" Kevin demanded.

"Shut up," Rae snapped, her gaze focused on Amy. "What makes you think she was murdered?" She mentally kicked herself for not discussing this with Uncle Sam. With all her anxiety over the presentation of her history project, she had completely forgotten about it.

"Well," Amy leaned forward, flipped through a few pages in her folder, "here. Look at this. It's a letter the police found in her apartment. She was seeing somebody."

"So?" Brad looked like he was trying to read it upside down. Rae reached over and flipped the page around for him.

"So? What if the guy she was seeing was a married man? What if he killed her?" Amy said excitedly.

Rae narrowed her eyes at Amy. "Vague references to a possible boyfriend are not equivalent of being murdered by a man covering up an illicit affair."

Brad looked up from letter. "Do what?"

Kevin cleared his throat. "Uh, you mean she doesn't have any proof?"

"That's what I said." Rae rolled her eyes.

Amy nodded her head at Rae. "Too much time with Uncle Sam," she said.

"She sounds like Monk," Brad mumbled, eyes dropping back to the letter.

Rae smiled. "Thanks. I like that show."

Brad chuckled, looking through the rest of Amy's papers. "What's this?" he asked, pulling out another page.

"That's the coroner's report," Amy explained.

"How the hell did you get that?" Kevin demanded, snatching the paper from Brad's hand. "This kind of stuff is supposed to be confidential."

"How would you know?" Rae asked.

Kevin cleared his throat. "I just do, that's all."

"How?" Brad demanded, trying to take the coroner's report back.

"Yeah, how?" Amy threw in.

"Well?" Rae asked, staring him down. "Dude, if you want me to do that presentation in front of a camera, it's time to come clean."

"He's the one who wants that!" Kevin protested, pointing at Brad. The other three glared at him. Kevin groaned. "Fine." He looked around like someone might be eavesdropping. "My dad is a judge," he whispered.

"Really?" Amy sat back, obviously impressed. "Think he'd write me a letter of recommendation for college?"

"Ask me in four years, if I'm still talking to you," Kevin snapped.

"No shit?" Rae saw Kevin in a new light. This was the same guy who told Amy to back off her dad, because he worked hard for a living. "What does your mom do?"

Kevin looked around again, as though word of the fact he was spilling his family secrets was traveling fast and other students would start gathering around. He whispered in Rae's ear, "She's a psychologist."

"Oh." Rae shrugged. "Okay." She wondered why he would be ashamed of that.

"What?" Amy asked, breathless.

"Anything in the coroner's report, Brad?" Rae asked, holding out a hand for the page.

"No idea," Brad admitted, handing it over.

Rae skimmed the page. She frowned at the chemicals found in the librarian's system. "I think we need to do some more research."

--------------

Dean sat at the bar, staring into his beer. His date, a cute gal with jet black hair and eyes that promised after dark mischief, was talking about something. All he could think about was the fact his little girl was at a dark movie theater with that Kevin kid. That kid was nothing but trouble. Dean remembered being thirteen and all those hormones. Public school was definitely a bad idea. Why the hell did he agree to that in the first place?

His eyes drifted to the television behind the bar. There was a special newsbreak. He grunted noncommittally to something his date asked. What was her name again? Something that started with a J? Or C?

"Dude," he waved at the bartender, "can you turn that up? What's going on?"

The bartender, Joe, was a good guy and turned up the volume. The fact he could remember the bartender's name and not his date's would disturb Sam, no doubt. Dean liked that, not that he was planning to admit any of this to Sam.

"…shooting that took place at the Cineplex not ten minutes ago." Dean sat up straighter, eyes glued to the screen. "Emergency vehicles are en route. We have no idea what happened at this time and are waiting for the authorities to arrive."

The Cineplex. Dean sprang from his seat as though it were on fire. Without a thought to his tab or his date, he rushed outside into a cab. There were always at least two outside this bar.

"Get me to the Cineplex now," he fumbled with his wallet. Dean pulled out a hundred dollar bill and thrust it into the cabby's hand. "Don't worry about breaking any laws."

"Yes, sir!" The cab roared to life.


	5. Chapter 5

Heh - I just can't write a family fic without some Dean angst. It just isn't possible!!**  
**

**Chapter 5**

Dean ran full tilt up to the movie theater straight from the cab. Sam and Rae had better be inside, whole, safe and sound. He darted around the ambulances parked out front and raced toward the doors.

"Whoa! Sir, you need to stand behind the barricade, sir." A cop blocked his path.

"No. My kid and my brother are inside." His eyes took in the scene around him. Paramedics loaded a gunshot victim into the back of an ambulance. "They better be," he muttered.

"You'll have to wait, sir. The front doors are locked from the inside. We're trying to find a way to get to the wounded inside."

Dean met the cop's eyes as his gut clenched. There were wounded inside. "I can fix that," he offered. "Just turn around, and we'll find an unlocked door."

The cop, a fairly young kid basically charged with area security, looked at him curiously. "Really? You sure about that?"

Dean nodded, encouraged by the response. "Just let me go inside to find my family."

The cop glanced around, nodded toward the far doors. "Try those," he whispered.

Dean walked casually over to the doors the cop indicated. He waited a moment, checking to see if anyone was watching. The cop followed him, stood with his back to Dean blocking anyone else's view. Dean slipped his lockpick kit out, unlocked the door, and slipped it back in his pocket before nudging the cop. "Gee, this one does look open," he said, pushing the door wide.

"Hurry up," the cop shoved him inside, following closely. A number of bodies lay unmoving on the floor inside, pools of blood forming. He could hear a few moans, indicating at least some were alive. Dean stepped through them, checking for anything familiar. Relief washed over him when he realized that he did not recognize anyone.

Dean raced down the hall, wondering what freaking chick-flick Sam and Rae would have picked. Unable to remember, he decided to just check every damn one. He raced inside the first door he found. An eight foot dog stared down at him from the screen when he bounded up the stairs. "Sammie!" he shouted. "Sammie!" No response. He tried two more before there was an answer.

"Dean?" Sam's voice came out of the dark.

"Get the hell down here!" he barked, unable to reign in his fear and frustration, sure it was coming out as rage. He heard a number of hushed whispers and the sound of people moving toward him. When Sam and Rae stood in front of him, he grabbed Rae and hauled her out to the hall where there was proper lighting. "Come on," he growled, hoping Sam was tagging along. Dean really did not want to have to go back in after his brother.

"Dean, what the hell are you doing? You can't just barge into a movie theater like this." Sam's nagging reassured him that he would be able to check out his entire family within seconds.

Just outside the door, Dean spun around on Rae. "Sammie, you okay?" he demanded, his hands searching her arms and legs for any injuries. When she did not answer, he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook gently. "Sammie! I asked if you're all right!"

Wide eyes looked into his. "Yes, sir."

Dean looked up at Sam. "You?"

"We're fine, Dean. What the hell are you doing here?" Sam demanded.

Dean pulled Rae into a tight hug, resting his cheek against the top of her head. "I came to bring you both home. No more movie theaters. If you want to watch any of that chick-flick crap, you'll have to rent it and watch it at home."

He heard footsteps. Glancing over, he saw Amy's mother and the rest of Rae's history group. "What's going on?" Amy's mother asked, concerned.

"Everyone needs to go home. Now," Dean insisted, clutching Rae's hand in his. He started walking toward the exit.

"Dean! We're parked this way," Sam pointed to the front lobby. "Uh, why are there cops blocking the lobby?"

"Because you don't need to go that way. We're going this way," he pointed at the exit sign on the far side of the building.

Sam jogged to catch up to him and Rae. "Dean, what's going on? Why are the police here?" Dean shook his head. He did not trust his voice not to crack during an explanation. "Dean? How the hell did you get here, anyway? Your date bring you?"

"Cab. Amazing what a cab driver will do for a hundred dollar tip." He tried to shoot Sam a smirk, but Sam's shocked face kind of killed it.

The exit let them out on the backside of the building.

"Where did you park?" Dean asked.

"Near the front entrance," Sam said, glaring at him.

Dean held out his hand for the keys. Sam shot him another strong look, but handed them over. "I'll pull the car around. All of you – Stay. Here." He gave Sam another look, one that dared his brother to argue with him. Sam crossed his arms over his chest, glaring, but appeared to be willing to stay put. His eyes dropped to Rae. "That's an order," he said softly. He watched as her face registered what he said and knew, beyond any doubt, even if Sam walked around to the front that she would not.

Dean ran toward the parking lot, intent to skirt the cops and emergency vehicles. When he saw a police officer running toward him he slowed, not wanting to be shot. The cop waved at him and Dean recognized the young officer who helped him get into the building.

"Mister!" The young officer called out. Dean headed toward him. "Hey, I just wanted to thank you. There won't be a commendation or anything, but I want you to know that I appreciate it." He held out a hand. "Most of the people inside were still alive. Now they have a chance."

Dean shook his head. "That would be thanks to you," he nodded towards the ambulances, "and them."

The officer held on to his hand. "You find your family?"

"Yeah. I'm going to get the car now." He wrenched his hand from the other man's grasp as he looked around. He spotted the Impala two rows over. "Right there."

"There's a back road, you know." The cop pointed toward the back of the theater. "It takes you right to the feeder road. You can get out of here without your family seeing anything."

Dean nodded seriously at the man. "Thanks. I, uh, gotta go."

He did not look back as he made a beeline for the car. Dean jumped inside, fired up the big motor and drove around to the back of the theater. He rolled his window down as he pulled up to the people waiting on him.

"Rae, you and Sam are up front. Everyone else can squeeze in the back," he snapped at them, jumping out to open the back door. "Move!" Dean wanted this damn place in his rearview. Now.

They piled in, no words of complaint. He started to wonder over the complacency, but shoved it out of his mind. When he slid in beside Rae, Dean looked down. "Seatbelt," he said, maybe too forcefully. He saw her scramble for it, finally buckling it in place, Dean knew he would have to make this up to her later.

Tires spun against asphalt as he peeled away from the damned movie theater. A voice in the back of his head wondered if today's events would cause any vengeful spirits that would bring him and Sam back someday. A swift turn at 40 mph put them on the feeder road, at the expense of the people in the backseat who were slammed to one side.

"Dean!" Sam hissed. He could feel his brother's glare.

Relieved to be a good distance from the theater and headed home, Dean wrapped his right arm around Rae's shoulders, comforting himself. "Sam, give Brad and Kevin your cell," he ordered. "They need to call their parents."

"What for?" Sam demanded.

"Not now, Sam," Dean was overtaken by a sudden onset of weariness. He pulled Rae closer. "Just give them your damn phone."

"Here," Sam's voice had less of that pissed-off and more something-is-up tone when he handed his phone to the boys.

Dean peered into the mirror to see Brad was first to call. "Mom? It's me. Mom? Why are you crying? … Mom? … Dad? What's going on? … No, we're fine. Rae's Dad just picked us up. … Okay, I'll ask.

"Mister Cooper? My parents want to know when I'll be home." Brad sounded really confused. Thank god, that meant no one ventured around the building while he retrieved the car.

"Where do you live?" Dean asked.

"Just a couple of blocks behind the school."

Dean looked ahead. Their school would be coming up in a couple of lights. "Five or ten minutes."

"About ten minutes, Dad. … Yeah, I'm fine. … Okay, me too, Dad." Brad ended the call, staring at the phone. "Now that was really weird."

"Kevin, call your parents," Dean insisted, maneuvering through traffic with only one hand on the wheel.

"Hi, Mom. Mister Cooper is bringing me home now. … Mom? You okay? … No, Mister Cooper just made us leave. … No, he didn't say why. … Right after we drop off Brad. … I don't know. Fifteen minutes maybe? … Yeah, love you too, Mom. Bye." Kevin sat in silence for a moment.

"Brad, I think my call was just as weird as yours." Kevin admitted.

Dean turned toward the school. At least they were all safe.

---------

"Go on, Sam. Pick out one of those crappy chick-flick movies you and Rae like. We'll wait here." Dean insisted, leaning over Rae to shove him out the door.

Sam snorted. He had no idea what was going on with Dean, but it was pretty obvious Rae was stuck in his immediate orbit for the weekend. As he climbed out of the car, Sam wondered how going to a stupid movie could get his brother so worked up. Dean even left a date! With Dean, a date meant only one thing: the sure promise of sex. For Dean to turn down sex…

As he pushed open the door of the video rental place, Sam decided he needed a plan to get Dean to accept the fact Rae was going to start dating sooner or later. It was normal. He headed over to the new rental section, noticing that the employees were all crowded around something behind the counter. Disgusted with teens who watched television when they were supposed to be working, Sam specifically looked for a movie that would annoy Dean. The Lakehouse. Perfect. He snagged it and headed for the counter. Sam had to tap his movie on the gray surface and clear his throat several times before he was noticed.

"Uh, sorry." A teenaged boy with long, scraggly hair and slumped shoulders came over. "We were just watching about the movie theater. I bet that place has to close down now." He shook his head sadly as he reached for Sam's movie.

Sam kept a grip on his rental. "Why is that?" he demanded, leaning over to see the small television.

"The robbery. Haven't you heard about it?" The teen stared at him, shocked. "There are at least twenty people dead. The rest are all in ICU and they aren't reporting on those." The kid shook his head. "Worst part is, they think the robbers got the date wrong. Tomorrow three blockbusters are supposed to start, big draw, you know? So they only got a normal day's take." He tugged on the movie in Sam's hand again. "You getting this or what?"

Sam maintained his grip. "Which theater?"

"The one right up the road." The kid jerked his head toward the freeway.

Sam's gut clenched into a cold, tight ball. And he had been furious with Dean! "I need to find a movie. Can you help me?"

----------------

"Dad, what's wrong?" Rae asked. Dad's hand rubbed her shoulder as he held her protectively close.

"Nothing." His voice was not entirely convincing. It might fool other people, but no one knew Dad like she did. That was the reason she knew any more questions would be deflected or ignored. Rae tried to remember if she ever saw Dad act this way before. The way he checked her out at the movie theater, that was familiar. Where did she know that from?

Rae watched the closed door of the rental place as she thought, leaning on her dad. He seemed to like that, because he pulled her closer. She knew he checked her all over like that before, but it was a long time ago. What was it? Why did he act like that? What could worry her dad like that? She saw him take down a Wendingo, right in front of her. He put himself between her and monsters. Once he even put himself between her and those scary people.

She looked up at him. That was it. The last time Dad acted like this was when the scary people kidnapped her. That was what was bothering her so much. She knew it scared him to lose her like that, even if it was only for a couple of days. Something scared Dad today the same way. When he dragged her out of that movie, he kept asking if she was all right. Dad thought something bad happened to them at the movies. Something happened at the movie theater, which was why she was not going to be allowed to go back. Rae leaned in closer, enjoying his protective embrace.

"What the hell is taking Sam so long?" he sighed, drumming his fingers over the steering wheel.

"There he is," Rae pointed out the opening door.

"About time." His arm left her, her shoulders briefly chilled by its absence while the motor started. They backed out of the parking space and pulled onto the road. Then the safe weight returned, settling over her shoulders like it belonged there, protecting her from the horrors of the world, and the night.

"What took so damn long, Sam?" Dad demanded once they were on their way, nearly to the apartment.

"I was looking for a special movie," Uncle Sam replied, not looking over.

"Oh, god. What are you going to make me watch?" Dad groaned, turning into the apartments.

"You'll see," Uncle Sam said. Rae wondered what her uncle was planning, if it was some sort of joke, but he was not smiling. She felt Dad's chest contract suddenly, scoffing quietly.

The arm left her again as Dad parked the car. "Come on." His voice was soft and weary.

She slipped out of the car on Dad's side. His hand rested on her shoulder the whole way to their apartment. Just the fact Dad was so obviously worried was scaring her. What the hell happened back there?

"I'm going to grab some stuff from the kitchen," Uncle Sam said, handing over the plastic bag to Dad. "You can put the movie on."

Dad rolled his eyes at Uncle Sam's back. "Let's see what torture your favorite uncle has in store." He pulled two DVD cases out of the bag. One was obviously a rental and the other looked like Uncle Sam bought a used movie. "No way! I don't believe it! Sam!"

"What?" Uncle Sam's voice echoed in the small kitchen.

"You actually bought Hell Hazers II, The Reckoning?" Dad stared down at the movie in his hand. Uncle Sam stepped out of the kitchen holding two beers.

"I told you I had to look for a movie," was Uncle Sam's reply as the sound of popping came from the microwave.

"And popcorn?" Dad's eyes narrowed. "Who are you and what have you done with my brother?"

Rae was starting to wonder if it was possession or a shapeshifter. "Christo?" she asked.

Dad and Uncle Sam both looked down at her, then exchanged a look. Next moment they were both laughing. Okay, maybe not possessed, but something was definitely up.

"We'll watch the annoying one first. After Rae goes to bed, you and I can watch that Hell Hazers crap," Uncle Sam said, handing over a beer.

"Works for me," Dad smiled.

"Hey, wait a minute. What if I want to see it, too?" Rae demanded. "I can handle scary movies. And what's the big deal about it anyway?"

Uncle Sam looked embarrassed as he answered, "Well, your dad kinda worked on it. As a PA."

"We were working a case," Dad said before she could ask, "that was my cover."

"No shit?" She took the movie out of Dad's hand to look at it. "Hey, it's a Tara Benchley movie. She's one of your favorites, right, Dad?"

"Oh, yeah." Dad had a funny, faraway smile that made her not want to wonder about it any more.

"I don't want to know," she mumbled, dropping the movie on top of the television. She picked up the rental. "Oh, The Lakehouse. Cool. It's very chick-flick, but you might like it, Dad."

"Uh-huh." Dad did not sound convinced, but he smiled at her when she turned around and patted the couch next to him.

Rae settled next to her Dad on the couch and fast forwarded through the trailers while Uncle Sam brought out the popcorn. She still wondered what happened to scare her fearless dad, but at the same time she did not want to know. If it was enough to freak him out, it was way scarier than she wanted to deal with. Besides, they had movies to watch.


	6. Chapter 6

Alerts are still down. sigh But this chapter was kinda fun! And I think I'm starting to feel sorry for Sam…

**Chapter 6**

The sound of squeaking door hinges woke her from a mildly disturbing dream involving a stage and an audience dressed only in underwear. Rae was grateful for the interruption.

"Dad?" she whispered.

"Yeah," his gruff voice came out of the dark. "You're awake?"

"Need to WD-40 those hinges," she replied, sitting up. "What's up?"

"Nothing." She felt the bed shift under her Dad's weight. "I, uh, just wanted to check on you."

Rae had no idea what propelled her dad to come to her room so late at night, but she had a pretty good idea he would not be sleeping in his room tonight. "Climb in," she said, shifting over to make room.

She heard him clear his throat. "No. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Go back to sleep." She felt the bed shift again as he stood.

"You going back to bed, or are you planning to sleep in my floor?" Rae demanded. The ensuing silence was her answer. "You're not sleeping on the floor, Dad. Come on, I don't have a queen size bed for nothing."

There was a deep, long sigh in the dark.

"I was having a bad dream," Rae tried again. "It was about lots of people in their underwear watching my history presentation."

Her bed shifted again as Dad sat back down. "Sounds disturbing. I'll have to talk to Sam about his advice on public speaking."

"I was probably seconds away from screaming."

"Can't have that." She felt the mattress sink as he lay down next to her. "Come here." One muscular arm found its way under her pillow and her head while the other wound round her waist. Rae leaned back against Dad, feeling safe and secure.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?" His breath tickled the hair on top of her head.

"What happened today?" She held the arm around her waist.

Dad shifted against her, drawing her in tighter. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"Dad, if it's that bad, I'll probably hear about it at school Monday."

"Yeah, I'm not too sure about that, either," he mumbled into her hair.

"About what? Going to school?" Rae frowned into the dark. She had not been too happy about it at the time, but school was growing on her.

"Don't like you being gone that long every day."

Rae squirmed around, trying to see Dad's face in the dark. "Dad? What the hell?" She squinted in the dark room, barely making out his profile.

Dad's gentle, calloused hand rubbed her cheek. "It was a shooting," he whispered.

"That's why the police barricaded the lobby." Rae shut her eyes, understanding why Dad was acting this way. He probably had a nightmare about it and came in to check on her, assuming Dad had been able to sleep at all.

"Yeah." His voice was barely a whisper and the hand against her cheek trembled.

She reached up to hold his hand, pressed it against her cheek. "But we're fine Dad."

He shook his head at her, a dark silhouette with wild spiky hair. "I wasn't there. I should have been there." A deep sigh filled the dark room.

Rae rolled on her side, pressed her back against Dad. She grasped his arm, pulling it tight against her waist. "You're always there when it counts, Dad." She felt him hold her close, his breath once again tickling the top of her head. Rae fell asleep listening to the steady rhythm of Dad's breathing.

----------

Drowsy consciousness returned with sunlight. Rae kept her eyes closed, enjoying the safety and warmth of sleep. A heavy weight pinned her legs and there was a tightness across her stomach that made breathing uncomfortable. Then she heard a click.

"Sam?" Dad's voice growled close to her ear as the weight on her legs lifted and the pressure on her stomach released.

Rae opened her eyes to see Uncle Sam with a disposable camera. He chuckled, forwarding the film and clicking again. Dad's feet hit the cheap carpet with a dull thud and Uncle Sam high-tailed it out of her room, Dad close on his heels. Rae stayed behind, stretching and listening to yells and laughing from the next room. Uncle Sam was definitely going to pay for that one and there was no telling how or when. Dad could be pretty creative.

She pulled on a clean pair of jeans and a pink t-shirt proclaiming 'Girl Power.' By the time she reached the kitchen, Dad was glaring at Uncle Sam over a steaming cup of coffee at the table. Uncle Sam, wearing a goofy smile, stood by the microwave where something was cooking.

"Morning, Sunshine," Uncle Sam said with more than his usual morning cheer. "Sleep well?"

She looked between her uncle and her dad. "After I stopped having that dream," she said, sliding in her chair.

Uncle Sam's smile faded a little. "What dream?"

One side of Dad's mouth twitched up. "The one where the audience for her history project was only wearing underwear. Really, Sam, what have you been telling the poor kid?"

When the smile dropped from Uncle Sam's face, Rae felt a small twinge of guilt. But the sparkle in Dad's eye more than made up for it. Besides, it wasn't like it was a lie. It just wasn't the whole truth. Uncle Sam was a firm believer in lying by omission, and he had taught her well.

Uncle Sam's cell went off.

"No jobs this weekend," Dad snarled, lifting his coffee.

Uncle Sam shot Dad a glare as he checked his cell. A funny look came over his face before he answered. "Hello? … Yeah, Karen, I saw it last night. … No, I didn't know either." Uncle Sam walked out of the kitchen.

"Karen?" Dad asked, eyebrows up.

Rae giggled. "Amy's mom."

"Ah," Dad nodded. "Probably just saw the morning news." A slow smile spread across his face. "Think she likes Sam?"

Rae frowned. "Everybody likes Uncle Sam."

Dad's smile turned into a wicked grin. "Not that kind of like. Do you think she, you know, _**likes**_ him." He waggled his eyebrows.

Rae shifted away from Dad, not _liking_ this conversation in the least. She shrugged, trying to find something else to talk about. The microwave went off. Rae jumped up to check on what Uncle Sam had cooking.

"Rae?" Dad asked. She ignored him, searching for a pot holder. "Rae." There it was. She snagged it, pulling out a tray of nice crispy bacon. "Sammie Rae."

Rae spun around, heart pounding. Was she in trouble now? "Sir?"

"Put it down and come here." Dad patted her chair.

Rae set the plate of bacon down on the tile counter before dragging herself over to sit beside Dad. "Yes, sir?"

"What's wrong?"

Shocked, she looked up at him. Dad was not exactly the emotional sharing and caring type. Well, not the sharing part anyway. "What? Uh, nothing."

Dad set his cup down, his head tilted to one side. "That's not exactly nothing, Rae. What's going on?" He tapped her head. "What's happening in there, Sunshine?"

Rae shrugged, studying the wood grain patterns in the table. She felt funny, like there was this hollow spot inside, and it made her a little angry. But she had no idea what to do about it. Dad leaned over, rubbed her back. It was silly, but it did make her feel better.

"Rae? That Amy girl is a friend of yours, right?" Uncle Sam strode back in the kitchen, staring down at the phone in his hand.

"I guess. Why?" She regretted Uncle Sam coming in, because Dad's hand fell away instantly.

"Am I interrupting something?" Uncle Sam asked. When Rae looked up, she saw his eyes flicker between her and Dad.

"Nope," Dad answered, picking up his coffee. "Why do you want to know if they're friends?"

Uncle Sam looked between them again, like he needed to weigh the truth of Dad's response. "Is Amy a little, uh, pushy?" He bit his lip after asking, eyes looking hopefully at her.

Rae nodded. "Actually, Amy is a lot pushy. Why?" She had a bad feeling about this.

"You have a date, don't you?" Dad snickered.

Uncle Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I think so, but I'm not really sure how it happened."

Dad laughed. "Okay, maybe we're even now." He gave Rae a gentle slug on her shoulder. "And I didn't even have to do anything." He winked at her before turning back to Sam. "When?"

"Uh, tonight?" Uncle Sam still looked confused.

Dad chuckled again. "Well, looks like it's me and you tonight, Rae. Wanna watch Hell Hazers again?"

"Uh, it may not be just the two of you," Sam said, clearing this throat.

"What?" Rae was liking this conversation less and less.

"So I'm watching both girls?" Dad laughed. "Well, what the hell. Rae, why don't you call Amy and see if she wants to spend the night?" That funny look was in Dad's eye again as he smirked at Uncle Sam. "You girls can pick out any movies you want."

"Uh, no. I really don't think a sleep-over is necessary," Uncle Sam protested.

"Maybe not, Sammy. But it could be fun." The smirk was wider and brighter than ever.

"Dad? You really think a sleep-over with Amy will be fun?" Rae asked, hoping that was what Dad meant and not wanting to know if it wasn't.

"Only one way to find out," Dad grinned at her. "Go call."


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry about the delay! I know I usually post at least every other day, but I'm trying to keep up with two chapter fics right now. Sorry! Hope you enjoy this!!

**Chapter 7**

Rae was not sure what exactly she expected this evening to be like, but this was not it. Amy studied the pool table, trying to decide what shot to take next while Dad chatted with the waitress delivering his beer. Rae was just about at her limit with that damn waitress. She kept coming back, talking to Dad, taking him away from the game.

Rae grumbled under her breath as Amy missed another easy shot. When Dad had been helping, this was a lot more fun. Rae lined up her next shot, one eye on Dad, and missed.

"Son of bitch!" She hissed, angry with herself. It was a simple shot, one she should have been able to do in her sleep.

"Problem?" Dad swiveled from the waitress, eyes trained on her.

Rae had half a mind to tell Dad exactly what her problem was, but she didn't. "I'm not having a good game," she said instead, glaring venomously at the waitress.

She noticed Dad's eyes flick between her and the waitress. He gave the woman a glowing smile, "Excuse me, I think I'm being called."

"Let's see what we can do about this," Dad said, running a hand over her head. "Whose turn?"

"Mine!" Amy piped up.

"Okay," he circled the table to help Amy, "let's see what we can do here." Rae wondered if Dad was making it a point of smiling at her, but as long as he paid more attention to their game than the waitress, she didn't really care.

-------------

Sam sat at the restaurant, trying to concentrate on what Karen was talking about, but it was difficult. Karen was not the most interesting person, he realized. She was pushy, borderline obnoxious, and reminded him a little too much of Dean that way. Also, her interests were so far from his, it was not even amusing. Learning about bricks was more interesting than the romance novel of the week or the latest from Martha Stewart.

A woman walked by their table. She seemed familiar to Sam. He allowed his eyes to stray from his date, who was rambling on about her latest homemade window treatment, to the woman being seated. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he realized who it was.

"Karen? Could you excuse me for a moment?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the woman at the far table.

"Sure, no problem," Karen said. "Just don't be too long."

"Right," Sam stood, his knees threatening to knock together as he forced his feet to cross the floor. He arrived at the table, looming over her. She was clearly waiting for someone to join her.

"Sarah?"

Bright eyes, glistening with intelligence and life, looked up at him. "Sam!" Her face lit up. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh," he glanced back at Karen, "well, I'm kinda on a date." He felt the heat rising in his cheeks. Sam had imagined seeing Sarah again, and it certainly was not under these circumstances. Actually, in his imagination, it was always more along the lines of running into her in a bookstore or at her work.

Sarah smiled broadly up at him. "Me, too. There he is." She pointed out a clean cut man approaching her table.

Damn it, Sam thought, watching the expression on the man's face shift from anticipation to confusion. "Well, I don't suppose you'd like to have coffee sometime? Catch up?" he asked hopefully.

She smiled that brilliant smile at him. "Your number still the same?"

Sam shook his head. She pulled a pen out of her purse as her date sat down. "I'd be happy to call you about that authentication, sir, if you'd give me your number."

"Thanks," Sam flashed a smile at her date. "I really need to get that painting insured." He scribbled out his current cell number on a napkin for her. "Monday?" he asked hopefully.

"Depends on my schedule," she told him with a wink.

"Of course. Thanks again." Sam walked back to his table.

Karen glared at him. "Who was that?" she demanded.

"Uh, she was an art dealer on the east coast," Sam replied, sitting down. "I was hoping she could recommend some better art reference books for the library."

"Reference books?" Karen repeated. She was not buying it, he knew.

"Yep. So, what so you think you're going to order?" he asked, lifting up his menu, attempting to hide the smile he knew was on his face.

-------------

It was interesting, Sam reflected, that after he left Sarah his number Karen suddenly became very interested in what he did. It was nicer than listening to Martha Stewart tips for hours on end. Not that Sam really wanted to talk about himself all the time. When the main course was delivered, the conversation shifted to the girls and what fast friends they seemed to have become.

"You know, Amy mentioned that Rae was adopted. That true?" Karen asked over her chicken salad.

"Yes," Sam replied. "I think Dean fell in love with her the first time he laid eyes on her. Never really believed in love at first sight before then," he chuckled.

Karen laughed too. "I'm going to assume you mean that in a fatherly way," she chided, pointing her fork at him.

"Of course!" Sam sat up straight, pretending to be shocked.

Karen laughed louder. "How about you? Were you around then?"

"Uh, yeah, I was around then." Sam picked at his baked chicken. "Well, I have to admit, I was not too keen on the idea at first. I thought taking her in was a bad idea." He had no idea why he was admitting this to anyone, much less Amy's mother.

"So what happened?" She popped another forkful in her mouth, all attention on him.

"She won me over." Sam looked back, wondering why discussing this was so easy with Karen when he had never been able to talk about it with Dean. "I'm not sure I can really explain it. One day I thought it was the worst idea in the world, and the next day I couldn't imagine our lives without her. Even with all the nightmares, the no-talking thing, all of it."

Karen's eyes grew wide. "Nightmares? No talking? What do you mean?"

Sam swallowed his food. "Well, we've never really kept it a secret," he said, rationalizing what he was about to divulge. "Rae saw a wild animal kill and feed on her parents. She refused to talk for some time after that. We still have trouble getting her to talk to any other adults. Her teachers are complaining that Rae does not participate enough in class discussions, especially considering what a good student she is."

"She still has nightmares about it?" Karen asked, fork dangling from her fingers, brows drawn together in concern.

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "If she does, she doesn't tell me. When we first started taking care of her, she would wake up screaming in the middle of the night and nothing except Dean could calm her down."

Karen shook her head, poking at her salad. "That does explain why he showed up like that last night." She sighed. "I was pretty irritated until I saw the news this morning. Before that, I thought he was just an overprotective ass."

Sam laughed. "He is. Dean means well, though. He really does."

"She's leaving," Karen whispered, nodding toward the back.

Sam spun around to see, before understanding it was a test. Sarah was standing, but her date was not. It was clear she was simply heading to the ladies room. With a hard swallow, he turned back around. He tried his best apologetic smile on her.

"So you do like her," Karen said stiffly.

Sam cleared his throat. "We, uh, went out once. But it was a long time ago. I was just really surprised to see her, that's all. And I really do want her help with the art reference books in the library."

"Which you decided the instant you saw her walk by," Karen said, lowering her eyes to her salad.

"Well, yeah. I figured she'd be perfect to ask. Doesn't mean she'll do it, though." Sam said, suddenly desperate not to hurt Karen's feelings. "I think the last time I talked to her was before Rae."

Karen made a noncommittal noise. "Amy has really taken a liking to Rae. I'm glad to see she has such a good friend. The women in our family don't have many friends."

Guilt stabbed Sam as he forced that smile wider. "You know," he said, carefully cutting more of his chicken, "you're a lot easier to talk to when you aren't talking about Martha Stewart and romance novels." He stabbed a slice of chicken. "I don't think we've ever taken Rae bowling. The girls might enjoy that."

Karen gave him a funny look. "I might like that, too. Bowling with a friend."

"It's a date, then," Sam said. "Next weekend?"

"Saturday," Karen said with a small smile. "Unless I get a better offer."

Sam chuckled. "Deal."

------------

As Sam reached for the doorknob, he heard the distinctive sounds of Hell Hazers II. They were still up, which meant he would catch grief from Dean for ending a date so early. Not that it was a real date after all.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open as quietly as he could. As Sam stepped into the den, the sight that greeted his eyes was amusing. Dean sat in the middle of the couch, head tilted back, sound asleep. One arm held Rae close to him while the other arm was wrapped around Amy. Amy was out cold, too. Rae's eyes opened heavily as he approached.

"Hey, Sunshine," Sam whispered, "let's get you to bed, huh?" He tried to pick her up, but Dean's arm tightened protectively and his brother's eyes flew open.

"What?" Dean hissed.

"The girls need to go to bed," Sam whispered.

Dean blinked hard several times. He looked down at the girls snuggled up to him. "Right. You take Amy, I got Rae."

Sam nodded. It was just more of Dean's overprotectiveness shining through. He lifted Amy up, the girl weighed less than what he used working out. He carried her back to Rae's bedroom, Dean close behind with Rae. They settled the girls in Rae's bed and turned out the light. Dean left the door open a crack before motioning Sam back to the den.

Dean plopped down on the couch, using the remote to turn down the sound. He patted the couch next to him. Sam sank down, readying himself for the dating lecture.

"Why are you home so early?" Dean demanded, his voice quiet. "Didn't you think I could handle two thirteen year old girls alone?"

Sam chuckled. "Looked like you had them eating out of your hand."

"Damn right. What's going on?" Dean spread his hands. "You were completely free tonight, had a woman ready and willing. What's wrong with you?"

"Dean, it wasn't like that," Sam protested.

"No?" Dean glared at him.

"No," Sam repeated. "Well, okay, maybe it was like that, but it wasn't exactly like that."

"Go on," Dean waved a hand at him.

"Dean, I wasn't really interested in Karen. Not like that." Sam said, shaking his head.

"Sammy, it's not like you get a whole lot of opportunities," Dean pointed out. His brother never could resist doing that. "Especially considering how much time you spend around me." He flashed that cocky grin, clearly insinuating Sam could not possibly compete.

Sam grinned back. "I saw Sarah tonight."

Dean's eyes widened. "Sarah? Creepy killer ghost girl in the painting, Sarah?"

"Yeah." Sam could feel the smile on his face just thinking about her. "I gave her my number, but I don't know if she'll call."

"Why not?" Dean asked, leaning forward. That figured. He could have one hundred percent of Dean's attention when it involved women.

"Well, she was on a date at the same restaurant, so she might be involved," Sam started to explain when Dean held up both hands.

"Dude, you left your date to try to get Sarah's number?" Dean shook his head. "Have you learned nothing? Has being my brother taught you anything?"

"Take advantage of free clinics?" Sam had no idea where this was going.

Dean locked eyes with him. "Dude, leaving your date to talk to another woman is not cool. Not cool at all. I'm surprised she didn't throw a drink in your face or walk out on you." When Sam didn't answer, too shocked by Dean's reaction, his brother asked, "Did she?"

"Uh, no. Dean? What the hell are you talking about? I've seen you hit on enough women to fill a small country." Sam was puzzled.

Dean's head tilted to one side, regarding him critically. "When I'm with a woman, I only have eyes for that woman. Doesn't matter that it will be over in a few hours. No other woman in the world exists." He winked. "That's the secret."

"The secret?" Sam asked.

"Dude, I just gave you the big secret. You should act grateful or something. Want a beer?" Dean still stared at him, like he was supposed to have this huge epiphany and jump up and down with glee.

"Nah, I'm good." Sam stared back. "Are you really fussing at me for talking to Sarah while I was out with Karen?"

"It's just rude, dude." Dean said, shaking his head. "You didn't try to come up with a weak cover story too, did you?"

Sam looked away.

"Sammy," Dean groaned. "I'm getting the beer. And I thought the girls were going to keep me up all night."

Sam listened to Dean getting their beers. "I don't get it. I'm the nice guy. I'm the one who wants to be with just one woman. How am I the jerk here?"

Dean slapped a cold beer in his hand as he sat. "Dude. You left your date to talk to another woman. Rude. You interrupted Sarah's date. Rude. You gave another woman your number while on a date. Rude." Dean shook the beer at him. "And you came up with a weak cover story, making it obvious you were interested in the other woman. That makes you a jerk." Dean took a long swig of beer. "Did you screw up Rae's first friendship, too?"

"No, no, no. We're taking the girls bowling next weekend." Sam sipped his beer. "It'll be fine. I wouldn't do that."

Dean's eyes rolled. "So you decided to be friends, huh?" His brother's head shook from side to side. "Sammy, you are the only guy I know who could turn a sure thing into just friends." Sam resisted a smile at Dean's heavy sigh. "Where did I go wrong with you?"

Sam leaned over, bumping his big brother's shoulder. "Don't know, dude. Guess you're just going to have to keep trying."

"Whatever," Dean muttered, turning the sound up on the television. "This is the part with the camera phone. It's my favorite."

Sam turned their conversation over as he watched the stupid movie again. As much as he hated to admit it, Dean was right. He was a complete jerk tonight. On the one hand, he felt really guilty about, especially about making Karen feel like she was a second-choice. No one should feel like that. That wasn't just rude. It was beyond rude. It was something Dean never did. And, he realized, neither did Rae. From what he had been able to observe, she treated each of her friends as though they mattered, like each one had a view and opinion that was important. She listened to each of them intently. He was really going to have to try to make it up to Karen next weekend. Unless, of course, she got a better offer. And he certainly would not blame her.

He really hoped Sarah would call.


	8. Chapter 8

My apologies for the delay, but this chapter just refused to go anywhere for a few days. Today, it took off! Sometimes, you just have to go with a new POV.

**Chapter 8**

Rae woke Sunday morning. She felt something warm beside her. "Dad?" She turned over and nearly screamed, until she realized it was Amy.

Amy opened her eyes. "Hey. Cool sleepover." Amy sat up. "Never been to one where I got to watch a scary movie and snuggle up to my friend's good looking dad."

"Shut up," Rae snapped.

Amy giggled. "Quit being so jealous. It's not like he'll stop being your dad, you know."

Rae stood, looking at her. "What do you mean?"

Amy shrugged. "Look, when my parents divorced, I got really jealous of my dad, too. I couldn't handle him dating anyone except my mom. I used to throw these fits." She laughed. "I broke dishes, glasses, anything I could get my hands on. But you know what?"

"What?" Amy had to be one of the oddest yet most interesting people she knew. There was really no telling what would pop out of the girl's mouth next.

She grinned. "No matter how terrible I was, he never stopped being my dad. And I put that man through utter hell." Her eyes shined at that. "So, if you ever need any tips?"

Rae laughed with her friend. "Where do you get this stuff?"

"I swear," Amy pointed a finger at her, "if you turn into Kevin, I'll have to disown you. That guy is strange. Even if he does like you."

"He does not," she snapped, reaching for a clean shirt.

"Yes he does. Have you seen the way he looks at you?" Amy demanded.

"I have," Dad said through the crack in the door. "Anybody want breakfast?"

Rae pulled the door open. "You have what?"

"Seen the way that creepy guy looks at you," Dad replied, and he looked just a little scary. Rae smiled at that. "Breakfast?"

"Coming!" Amy piped up, rushing out the door.

Rae slid an arm around Dad's waist so they could walk to the kitchen together. "You get all the juicy details from Uncle Sam's date?"

Dad snorted. "Nothing juicy there. Your uncle is an idiot."

She grinned, surprised at the feeling of relief. "Damn! Almost forgot!" Rae pushed away, rushing back to her room. She thrust a hand inside Amy's backpack, emerging with the blue folder. No time like the present.

"What's wrong?" Dad asked, hovering in the doorway.

"We need to show you something," she said, holding up the folder.

-----------

Amy's eyes darted between the two men reviewing her ghost research. This was definitely the coolest sleepover she had ever been on: pool, scary movies, snuggling, and ghosts. The best part was the fact Rae's dad and uncle at least pretended to take it seriously.

"Any flickering lights in the library?" Rae's Dad asked as he studied them, like they might lie about it.

"I know they've had an electrician out twice about problems with the lights," Amy told him. "I heard the librarians complain about it."

Uncle Sam had his laptop out. "No deaths in the school library in the past ten years. If it is a spirit, it may not be a vengeful one." He looked up at Rae's dad. "Dean?"

Rae's dad leaned over the table, drumming his fingers. "We've looked into less. Okay, girls, we'll check it out. In the meantime," he locked eyes with Rae, "no going to the school library. If you need to do research, you can go to Sam's work."

"Yes, sir," Rae said. It was funny how fast Rae always answered her dad and always agreed with him. Amy would never do that, unless she was trying to lure her dad into a false sense of security. She decided that must be it, Rae was planning for them to look into this ghost librarian thing some more on Monday.

She asked about it later, when they were in Rae's room packing her things. "So what's the plan?"

"Dad and Uncle Sam said they'd look into it. If there's anything there, they'll find it." Rae said with a shrug, like she didn't care anymore.

"Wait a minute," Amy faced down her friend, hands on hips. "I thought all that 'yes, sir' stuff was for show. We are going to talk to the librarians tomorrow, right?"

Rae's eyes got real big, comic big. "Dad said not to."

Amy scoffed. "So? You do everything your dad says?"

"Yes."

There was not a trace of deceit in Rae's face, the girl was an open book of honesty. "Seriously? Everything your dad says? If your dad told you to jump off a bridge, you'd do it?"

Rae's head cocked to one side. "I did."

"You did what?"

"When he told me to jump off the bridge. I did it."

Amy started to laugh, but Rae was not even smiling. "What the heck are you talking about?"

Rae shook her head. "Maybe Uncle Sam was right." She turned around, straightening her bed.

Amy was a pro at weird and unusual conversations, but this one really took the cake. She spun Rae around to face her. "Right about what?"

"Not telling you," Rae said simply, as though that explained everything.

"Really not following. Not only do I think we're on different trains, but your train is in Japan and mine is stuck in a shipping yard or something." Amy stared hard, trying to read in those wide brown eyes what the heck they were talking about.

Rae laughed at her. "Dad said if I thought I could trust you, I could tell you, but Uncle Sam said I shouldn't."

"Tell…me…what?" Amy lost patience with this whole attempt at a conversation about a minute ago and was now just desperate to know what the flipping topic might be.

Rae studied her for a long time, like her friend needed to make an important decision. Amy felt that familiar feeling of judgment. Most of the kids at school judged her pretty harshly, like she was the sore thumb on a handful of perfect fingers that would operate so much better if she would just disappear. She held her breath. Rae had been the first person in a long time who seemed to take her at face value, accept her as she was. She really didn't want to lose that.

Rae bounced down on the bed. After a moment she patted the spot next to her. Amy stared. If she needed to sit down, it was bad news. 'We can't be friends anymore, you stare at my dad too much and you're weird.' As she sat, her breath caught in her throat and her lungs tightened, squeezing all the air out. She felt like her eyes might pop out from the reverse pressure in her body as she waited for the pronouncement.

"Dad and Uncle Sam are really hunters."

Amy waited. The bomb was due to drop any second.

"They hunt things like ghosts and stuff."

Amy felt anger rise up. Now Rae was just making fun of her. "That's not funny," she hissed, tearing welling in her eyes. "You know I take this stuff seriously. If you didn't want to be my friend, you should have just said so!" She felt the hot tears wash down her cheeks, but made no move to wipe them away. If she moved, she was going to collapse.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Rae demanded, jumping up to face her. "Dude, I tell you the big family secret, and you think I'm making fun of you?" Rae slapped herself in the forehead. "Shit, Uncle Sam was right. I have no idea how to deal with people."

"DAD!"

Amy remained exactly where she was, gripping the bedsheets, tears streaming down her face. When Rae's dad popped in, she did not even make the effort to look at him, which showed just how distraught she felt.

Rae pointed at her, shrugging. "She thinks I'm making it up, that I'm making fun of her or something."

"What do you want me to do?" He demanded from the doorway. "Show her the weapons?"

"Please?"

Amy looked up into Rae's pleading face. Either the girl was a much better performer than she appeared during their history presentation, or Rae was for real. She hoped for the latter. It had been a long time since she had a real friend.

Rae's dad came back in about a minute later with a green canvas duffel bag. He dropped it on the floor with the loud clunk signifying it was heavy. He unzipped it, pulling out items one by one. "Shotgun loaded with rocksalt, for spirits. Bottle of Holy Water, good for all kinds of nasties. Gun with silver bullets, gun with consecrated iron bullets. Shotgun with consecrated iron shot. Silver knives. Regular hunting knives." As he inventoried the items, Amy managed to ask a question here and there, like why so much stuff was iron and what was with all the rock salt. Rae's dad answered each question patiently. When he was done, he and Rae loaded everything back inside the duffel.

Rae's dad swung the duffel over his shoulder, eyeing them both. "I was serious about no school library. Not until Sam and I have checked out this ghost. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," Rae answered immediately.

He stared at her. "Okay," Amy mumbled weakly. He left, the door standing open.

Any dragged her eyes back to Rae, who was watching her intently. "You weren't making fun of me?" Rae shook her head. "You seriously believe all this stuff? Ghosts? Werewolves? Zombies?"

Rae giggled. "Let me tell you the story about throwing meat at zombies," she offered, bouncing next to Amy onto the bed.

------------

Sam waited for Dean in the kitchen. When his brother came in, he rolled his eyes and pulled out a chair to sit down.

"Rae told her." It was a statement, not a question. "How did she take it?" As if he didn't have enough problems with Karen now, this would undoubtedly be icing on the cake. He hated when people hated him.

"She thought Rae was making fun of her," Dean said softly, looking at him with a perfect puzzled expression. "Amy already believes all this stuff, Sam. She just didn't think we did."

Sam barked out a laugh. That was so far from what he expected, yet it made perfect sense. "You know, only Rae could find a friend like that."

Dean shook his head. "We are in so much trouble, you know that?"

"What do you mean? You think Amy will be a problem?" Sam tensed, wondering what was going through that labyrinthine mind of his brother's. There was really no telling. He doubted even Missouri could read anything below the surface level when it came to Dean.

"No." Dean glanced around, as if the girls might pop up any second. "Boys," he hissed. "I mean, she's only thirteen and they're already sniffing around." His face soured. "Hunting her down. Next thing you know, she's going to want to go on a date. A real date, no chaperones." He groaned, hiding his face in his hands. "I can't do this."

Sam reached out, patted his brother reassuringly on the shoulder. "It's okay, Dean. I'll try to find something for you to kill, make you feel better."

Dean's head shot up, glaring over his fingertips. "You ever do that again, and I won't need to go find something." He shoved himself violently away from the table before stalking off to their bedroom, the slamming door echoing in the small apartment.

Sam sat in stunned silence until the girls wandered out. "Uncle Sam? What's going on?"

Sam raked his hands through his hair. "Uh, I'm not sure. But I think I hurt his feelings." Oh, shit, was he in trouble now.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Sam tried to concentrate on his research, but the image of Dean's blank face kept intruding on his thoughts. Dean had refused to speak to him since threatening him yesterday morning. Sam thought he could jar his brother out of this foul mood with some jokes or a nice take out dinner. Dean did not even acknowledge the jokes and refused to eat. That was when he knew he was really in deep this time. Dean would not eat. Dean ate anything, anywhere, and as much of it as he could stomach. Sometimes Sam wondered where his brother could put it all.

He flipped the pages of his book, trying to look like he was working, but his mind was on Dean. What had he done that was so horrible? Dean made some comment about boys sniffing around and Sam had responded in kind, offering to find something for Dean to go kill, to work out his frustrations. Okay, maybe he should not have used that sarcastic voice when he said it, but the sentiment was real. Dean had to know that.

His cell phone went off. Sam checked caller id, hoping it was his brother but knowing it wasn't. Unknown. With a heavy sigh, he answered. "Hello?"

"Is this Uncle Sam?" The woman's voice on the other end demanded.

Sam winced as he recognized that voice. "Miss Grimmault?" he had been expecting this call, but to be honest, he had hoped Dean would be the one taking it.

"I am having some problems with Sammie," she informed him, "and I was hoping you could help me find a satisfactory resolution."

Sam chewed his bottom lip. This really was Dean's territory, but education had been falling to him, so what the heck? It wasn't like Dean was talking to him anyway. "I take it this is about Romeo and Juliet?" He had tried covering that play with Rae last year, but she really did not get it. Dean's constant comments about men in tights did not help.

"That's where it started," her voice came through loud and clear, "she had a few of her facts wrong, which led to some erroneous conclusions on her part. I tried to correct those facts and assumptions during class."

Sam shut his eyes. He had a pretty good idea where this was headed. "Now she refuses to participate in class, right?"

The exasperated sigh said it all. "I thought we were making progress, but now she won't even look at me."

Sam rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. "You embarrassed her."

"Excuse me, but I did not!" Miss Grimmault snapped. "I simply corrected some of her mistakes."

Sam nodded at the library ceiling. "Rae has never been in a classroom before, Miss Grimmault. She's still figuring out how it all works. I take it when you corrected her mistakes, you mentioned her by name?"

There was an audible huff. "I simply said if Sammie could make these mistakes, so could anyone else in class. I did not single her out. I told the class that it was obvious they all needed a review."

Sam's head dropped forward. Shit, it was worse than he thought. "Miss Grimmault? I know you mean well, but if that's how you phrased it to the class, then Rae not only thinks you singled her out, but that the whole review was her fault. I have no doubt that she assumes if she refuses to say anything else in your class, then she can not be responsible for the class being punished."

"Reviews are not punishment!" Miss Grimmault snapped. "I had the review planned anyway because there is a test over the play on Wednesday."

"Then you should have said that," Sam replied, doing his level best not to sound angry or annoyed, even though he was both. "I'm trying to explain Rae's reaction, and you're arguing with me. Why did you call?"

The silence from the other end lasted so long, Sam nearly hung up. "Because I wanted to know why she seemed to completely shut down. And you told me." He heard a deep breath. "I'll try to be more sensitive in my wording next time. Can you and her father talk to her at home? Sammie has an interesting perspective and I would like to hear more from her in class."

"I'll try, but I can't make any promises," Sam told her. It might suck, but it was the truth. "Really, this is between you two. If you feel you need to talk to her about it after school, I'll back you up on that."

"Thank you for that. I'll keep it in mind. Let's see if the situation resolves itself in the next couple of weeks first."

"Okay. Please keep us informed," Sam said, hoping this conversation was over.

"It would be easier if her father answered his phone," she replied, the accusation clear, before the call disconnected.

Sam stared at the phone in his hand for a moment. Oh yeah, that woman was going to call child services next. Great. And what was that about Dean not answering his phone? Sam hit redial on his phone, wondering if Dean would bother to pick up this time. He checked his watch. Dean's lunch hour should be nearly over by now. No answer. Dean usually answered his phone during lunch, but Dean was usually speaking to him, too. He tried again.

"Hello?"

Sam did not recognize the voice. "Who is this? Where's Dean?" What, Dean passed off his phone so he wouldn't have to talk to his own brother? God, his brother was a jerk!

"This is Sam, right? Dean's brother?" the voice asked.

"Yes," Sam replied through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, uh, well…your brother had some kind of attack at lunch. Not real sure what happened, but the paramedics said it sounded like a heart attack."

Sam's anger flushed from his system, leaving him temporarily cold, void of emotion. "Paramedics? There's an ambulance there?" His voice sounded like it belonged to someone else, someone calm and rational.

"There was. They just took him to the hospital."

Sam nodded at the air. "Right. Of course." He pressed the button to end the call. After staring at his phone for all of half a second, the words 'heart attack' flashed back. Sam left the library at a dead run.

---------------

Sam paced in the emergency waiting room. He hated this place. Of all places on Earth, emergency room waiting areas were the worst. No, sitting beside his brother after a terminal diagnosis, that was the worst, hands down. He felt the eyes of admissions nurse following him. She already spoke to him twice about upsetting other people in the waiting room. He really did not care. An annoying beep came from his pocket.

Sam pulled out his cell. The alarm to remind him to leave in time to pick up Rae went off again. Damn. He scrolled through his phone list, searching for someone he could call.

"Hello?"

"Karen? It's Sam. I need a huge favor," his eyes dropped to the watch on his wrist.

"Uh, Sam. I kind of think you're the last person to be asking for favors."

He sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I know, but there's no one else I can call. Look, there's something wrong with Dean. I'm at the hospital. Can you pick up Rae at school?"

"Uh, well…What happened? You're at the hospital?"

"Yeah. They won't tell me anything yet." His pacing picked up. "Can you? Please? I'll really owe you big."

"Okay, okay. Calm down. I'll leave work right now and pick them both them up. Do you want me to come up to the hospital?"

"No!" He stopped, tried to regroup quickly. "No. Uh, Rae doesn't take things happening to Dean very well. Just tell her I had to work late. When I know what's going on, if it's anything to really be worried about, I'll tell her."

"Okay, fine. No problem. I'll take the girls to my house. Just let me know what you want me to do."

Sam heaved a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Karen. You're a godsend. Oh, if Rae asks for the password, it's Ghostbusters."

"Password. Ghostbusters. Right, got it. I'm gone."

Sam slipped the phone back in his pocket, resuming his pacing.

"Mister Cooper?"

Sam spun around. Funny how easily he learned to answer to so many different names. He tried not to run to the doctor standing just outside the ER doors. "Yes?"

"Your brother is Dean?" The man was middle aged and built like a stuffed teddy bear, minus the fur.

Sam nodded. "Yes. Is he all right? Was it a heart attack?" He felt the pressure in his own chest. The words Dean and heart attack should never be spoken in the same sentence. Been there, done that, freed the reaper.

"Come here," the doctor led him through the doors. They stopped just outside a white curtain. He pulled it aside briefly, allowing Sam to see Dean for a moment. He looked asleep. The doctor thrust the sheet back in place. "It wasn't a heart attack," he said, his voice low.

Sam felt the air enter his lungs easier now. "So, what was it? Uh, gastritis? I've heard that can feel like a heart attack. And with the way Dean eats…"

The doctor shook his head. "Actually, it was a full blown panic attack. Has your brother been suffering from these long?"

Sam blinked. He blinked again. "Excuse me?"

"Your brother just suffered through a two hour episode. I've pumped him full of enough drugs he won't care about anything for the rest of the night. When he wakes up you can take him home, but don't leave him alone." The doctor wrote something on the chart he carried.

"Wait." Sam held up both hands. "Just wait a minute. Are you trying to tell me that Dean, my brother, had a panic attack?" He tried to look at the chart the doctor was holding. "You sure you didn't mix him up with another patient?"

The doctor eyed him. "So you're saying he didn't tell you about the other times?"

"Other times." Sam still was not processing this conversation. He was certain this man had Dean mixed up with someone else. "What other times?"

"Dean said those were not this severe. Something must have really set it off this time, but he refused to discuss it with me. I was hoping he already talked to you about this." The doctor's eyes were not unkind. It sounded like he was sincere.

"Not yet," Sam growled, "but he will." He pushed past the man into Dean's area.

Sam pulled up a chair to wait for his brother to wake. Dean's short hair was wet with sweat and his face flush. At least he didn't look like he did after his electrocution, that put part of Sam's mind at ease. But Dean having panic attacks? Dean and panic, those words were mutually exclusive in his mind. What in the world could possibly cause Dean, his big brother, killer of things supernatural, to panic?

"Hey, Dean," Sam said, mainly to hear the sound of his own voice, not feel alone. "Dean, you planning to wake up anytime soon?"

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Dean mumbled, "can't even let a guy take a nap."

Sam smiled in spite of himself. "Doctor says you can leave after you wake up."

Dean's eyes fluttered open. "Leave?" He looked around, clearly disoriented. "Yeah, I'm awake. Let's go." He moved to sit up. "Whoa!" A wide grin spread across his face. "Dude, is it me or is this a really nice ER room?"

A nurse appeared at that moment with Dean's release papers. "Mister Cooper?"

Dean's grin turned brilliant. "Hello."

"After you sign these, the doctor said you can leave. But he did recommend making a follow-up visit in a few days. If not with him, then with your GP. All right?" She handed over the forms and a pen.

"All right?" Dean repeated, his eyes roving over her. "I'd have to say, awesome."

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. He smiled apologetically at the nurse. "I think he's feeling better."

She laughed lightly, showing Dean where to sign. "You are driving him home?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam said with a nod. "Oh, that reminds me. I need to make a call. Can I use my cell back here?"

"No, you'll have to wait until you're outside for that."

"Who you need to call, Sammy?" Dean turned eyes bleary with heavy medication on him, a stupid grin across that otherwise blank face.

"Karen."

Dean's stupid grin broadened. "Yeah? You kiss and make up?" His eyebrows waggled.

"No, Dean. She picked up Rae from school. I need to call her to let her know she can bring Rae home." Sam hoped this would penetrate his brother's medicated haze.

"Rae?" His grin beamed now. "Love that kid. She's great, isn't she?"

The nurse giggled, taking the signed paperwork from Dean. "Yours?" she asked.

Dean dug his wallet out, which took some doing in his present state. "Here, look." He pulled out several pictures. "Isn't she just darlin'?"

Sam watched, a little stunned, as Dean showed off his pictures. He had never seen this happen before. The nurse crooned appreciatively over them before leaving, shooting Sam a sympathetic look as she passed. "A wheelchair isn't necessary from the ER, but if you'd like one?"

"No, no. I got it." Dean stood on shaky legs. "No problem." He tried shoving his wallet back in his pocket, but he could not seem to locate the pocket. "Sammy? Where'd my pocket go? Somebody take it?"

Sam sighed, standing. He took the wallet from his brother and stuck it in Dean's back pocket. "Found it."

Dean grabbed him by the shoulders. "You're a good brother, you know that?"

Sam shook his head, taking one of Dean's arms to lead him out. "You're drugged out of your gourd, you know that?"

"Yeah. It's nice." Dean giggled, leaning into Sam's grasp. "We should do this more often."

"I don't think so," Sam snapped.

"Why not? I'm having a good time." Dean smiled up at him.

Sam scowled. "Because I've spent three hours in the waiting room wondering if you were having a heart attack." He steered his brother through the automatic glass doors outside.

"Oh." Dean walked along in silence until they reached the car. He slid into the passenger seat and waited for Sam to sit behind the wheel before he said anything else. "That still bothers you, huh? The heart attack thing?"

Sam cleared his throat. Hell yes it bothered him. Dean nearly died, would have died. There was nothing the doctors could do. Not that anything silly like 'possible' or 'feasible' was going to stop him. But what he said was, "Yeah, I guess," as he started the car.

"It won't happen again," Dean said as they pulled on to the road. "I tuned down the tasers."

Sam nodded. He had no intention of going after a rawhead again. As a matter of fact, since he usually found their hunts these days, he tended not to pay too close attention to anything that looked like it could be a rawhead. Not that he was ignoring them or avoiding them, but there were plenty of other things out there to hunt. Sam pulled out his cell to call Karen. She agreed to meet them at the apartment with Rae.

He spotted her car in the parking lot when they pulled in.

"I owe Amy's mom a tune-up," Dean said as they parked. "You know, for picking up Rae."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate that," Sam replied, shutting the big motor off.

"She's really a great kid," Dean said, grinning ear to ear. "You know it?"

"Yeah, I know. Come on, she's probably waiting for us." Sam motioned with his head.

Dean jumped out of the car. Sam winced when he noticed his brother stumble a little. He got out, trying not to look like he was rushing to walk beside Dean. "She's going to think you're drunk, you know."

Dean shrugged. "S'okay. Not like it'd be the first time. Better than the alternative." He shot Sam a strong look.

"I won't tell her if you don't want me to. But Dean, we really need to talk about this."

"Nah!" Dean waved a hand.

"Dean, you just had a severe, two hour panic attack. We really, really need to talk about this," Sam insisted.

"Nah!" Dean shook his head, which caused him to stumble from side to side. Sam grabbed his brother's elbow to steady him. "Sammy, you might be a pain in my ass," Dean looked up at him, "but you're a good little brother."

"Yeah? I try." Sam steered Dean to the apartment. Sure enough, there were three figures standing outside the door.

"Dad!" Rae came flying at them.

To his surprise, Dean broke his hold on his brother's elbow and dropped to one knee with both arms spread. "Hey, beautiful!"

Rae plowed into the waiting embrace. "What happened? You okay?"

Sam glared at Karen, who shrugged sheepishly. "She, uh, just wouldn't let up."

"Just fine, darlin'." Dean held out a hand without moving from his current position. "Amy's mom, thanks. I owe you a tune-up."

Karen's eyes flitted to Sam, who nodded, as she shook Dean's hand. "No problem. Glad to help."

"Come on Dean," Sam lifted Dean onto his feet, with Rae still clinging to him. "Time to go in."


	10. Chapter 10

Okay, I've been neglecting poor Sammie Rae lately, so I'm trying to make up for it here. Hope you SR fans enjoy!!**  
**

**Chapter 10**

"Do you have any idea what a great kid you are?" Dean asked Rae, leaning over to rest his cheek on her head. Sam followed them into the apartment, rolling his eyes at their backs.

"Dad, you sound drunk," Rae replied, "but you don't smell like a bar."

Dean giggled. Sam could always tell when his brother was over-medicated, because that was the only time his overly-macho, tough as nails big brother actually giggled. He bit his lip to keep from laughing at Dean.

"Hospitals have really good drugs, darlin'," Dean said with a grin. "Hey, guess what? I got the pictures from your sleepover developed." He patted down his jacket pockets several times. "They were here earlier," he mumbled.

"Come on, Dean," Sam reached out, grabbing a fistful of his brother's jacket, "take this off. I'll find them."

Dean allowed his jacket to be removed, even though it meant loosening his hold of Rae. Then he turned Rae to face him again. "Great kid," he beamed. Rae rolled her eyes at Dean.

Sam stifled a chuckle as he searched through Dean's pockets. He found one of those photo envelopes in the inside pocket. He pulled it out, hoping the pictures he took had not been discarded or burned. As he slid them out into his palm, Sam saw the first photo was of Dean curled around Rae, sound asleep. The second one was basically the same, but Dean had shifted a little. Sam turned his back to them, quickly slipping the second picture under his shirt.

"Find it?" Dean demanded.

"Yeah, yeah I did," Sam shoved the pictures back inside as he turned around. He held out the envelope.

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean's hand gripped his shoulder briefly before taking the envelope. "You're a good brother."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You keep saying that."

Dean's grin was bright. "What can I say? I got an awesome brother and a great kid! The only thing that would make it better would be if…" his voice trailed off at the same rate as his grin.

"Dad?"

Dean looked down, startled. The grin returned. "Wanna know what a great kid you are?" he asked.

"Uh…Okay?" Rae's eyes darted between him and Dean. She was clearly out of her depth with drugged-dad.

Dean's face lit up. "Great! Here, hold these," he thrust the pictures in Rae's hands before rushing toward the bedroom. At the doorway he spun around and would have fallen if he had not grabbed the doorframe. "Stay there." He pointed at them. "Uh, all of you."

"Pizza?" Sam asked, pulling out his cell.

"Uncle Sam? What's wrong with Dad?" Rae's hand shook on his arm.

"Hey," he pulled her close, sinking to the couch together, "Dean's fine. Okay? Don't worry." Her whole body trembled against his. "It's okay, honey, really."

"What's wrong with him?" she whispered.

"I'm not sure yet," Sam whispered, "but I'm going to find out. Okay? It isn't anything that can hurt him. Not really."

"The doctors said so?" she asked in the same hushed whisper.

"Yeah." He wrapped an arm around her to rub soothingly. "The doctor said so. Honest." Rae leaned into him, burrowing her head in his side. "What do you think he's doing in there?"

He felt Rae's head shake in his side. A crashing sound from the bedroom had them both on their feet. Rae raced to the larger bedroom, Sam close on her heels. They found Dean lying in the bottom of the closet covered with clothes and the weapons bag pinning him down.

"Dad!" Rae's scream filled his ears.

"Hey," Dean waved from his odd position, a silly grin on his face. "What's wrong with you two?"

Sam pushed Rae aside to move the weapons bag off Dean. He pulled his brother up. "What were you doing in here?" he demanded as Dean rose shakily to his feet.

"Need my box," Dean pointed to the top of the closet. "That damn bag never attacked me before." He kicked at the weapons bag.

"Rae, take your dad into the other room. I'll find his stupid box before he kills himself looking for it." He pushed both of them away.

Sam waited for them to leave the room before searching for this box of Dean's. What box, anyway? Sam shuffled through the few things they kept on the closet shelf. When his hand hit the thick winter blanket, it felt harder than it should. Frowning, Sam pulled it off the shelf. Something was wrapped inside it. Sam unrolled it on the bed, finding a wood box inside. Dean's box? He turned it over in his hands. It was stained a deep walnut brown with shiny brass fittings and the letters DW burned into the top.

Wondering when Dean acquired his box, and why he hid it, Sam brought it into the den.

"You found it! Awesome." Dean held up both hands for it as Sam approached the couch.

"Dean, what is this?" Sam demanded as he handed it over.

"My box." Dean said with a shrug. He turned to look at Rae. "Ready to see what a great kid you are?"

"Dad?" Rae reached out with a careful hand to touch the box. "Isn't that The Box? The one you keep in the trunk?"

"Yep." Dean set the box on their battered coffee table. He spun the combination lock a few times before attempting to unlock it. "Uh, Sammy?"

"What?"

Dean shoved the box toward him. "The numbers keep moving. Can you open it for me?"

"Sure." Dean had to repeat the combination a few times before he got it right. Apparently his brother kept confusing the lock combination with Rae's birthday. Sam popped the lock open and took it off before shoving the box back at Dean.

Dean flipped open the lid with flourish.

"Dean?" Sam was struck with an uncomfortable feeling. "You sure you want to do this?" If his brother had been keeping this box such a secret, it really should not be medication that makes him reveal its contents.

Dean flashed a brilliant grin. "Don't worry, Sammy. There's stuff about you in here, too."

Sam had been willing to protest again, but snapped his mouth shut at that. What did Dean have about him in there? And how long had his brother been carrying around that box?

Dean held out his hand to Rae. "Pictures?"

She placed the thick envelope in his hand. Dean slid out the pictures and took off the top one. He held it up. "This is for the box. If I ever find it in a frame, I'm gonna hurt one of you." Sam was certain that look was supposed to be intimidating, but the silly grin kinda canceled it out.

Dean set the picture aside. "Okay, ready? Here's that paper." He took out Rae's English paper about the attack on her parents, thinly disguised as a wild animal attack. He grabbed her face with both hands and planted a huge kiss on her cheek. "But you could pick a better hero," he told her as he set the paper aside.

"No I couldn't."

Dean winked as he reached back inside the box. "Some of my favorite pictures that you drew," he said, setting several drawings down. Sam recognized one as the very first picture she drew for them, of her standing between him and Dean. He wondered what happened to it, assumed it had been destroyed long ago.

"More pictures," Dean pulled out a fistful of photos. Sam glanced through them. He recognized some from pics taken on their cell phones or disposable cameras over the years, but some were unfamiliar. A few even looked like they had been taken at a portrait studio. There was one of Dean and Rae he did not recognize, taken in front of a fountain.

"Who took this?" Sam asked, holding it up.

Dean shrugged. "Some chick. She thought it would look cute. Hey! I forgot about this one!" He passed over a picture of the three of them at one of those roadside carnivals.

"Where was that?" Rae asked, passing it to Sam.

"I don't know, but I remember that day. You wanted to ride the ferris wheel all day." Sam grinned at the memory.

"Good thing Uncle Sam wanted to ride it, too," Dean said. "No way was I getting on that damn thing."

"Why not, Dad?" Rae asked, leaning forward to peer into The Box.

"Dude, it goes up. In the air." Dean huffed, rolling his eyes.

Rae turned round eyes on Sam. Sam shook his head. They could discuss that later.

"Hey, anybody hungry?" Dean asked, freezing with his hand in The Box.

"I can order pizza," Sam offered.

"Cool. That'll give me a few minutes to sort through this mess." Dean turned The Box upside down, its contents spilling over the table and flitting down to the floor.

"Rae," Sam nodded at the mess as he stood, the pizza place's phone ringing in his ear. He watched her drop down to retrieve the items on the floor so Dean would not have to move. After the closet fiasco, Sam was determined his brother not move from that couch unless it was to go to bed. As he ordered the pizza, a beeping tone informed him he was missing an incoming call. Sam ignored it, finishing their order. Then he checked to see who he missed, but the number was not familiar. He went to shove the phone back in his pocket when it went off. He looked. He had voicemail.

Sam waited for his voicemail to connect. One new message.

"Sam? It's Sarah." His breath caught in his chest. "If you still want to have that coffee, I can meet you around seven. Call me."

Sam checked his watch. It was nearly seven, but Dean was in no condition to be left alone. Sam practically ran into the kitchen, connecting to the last missed call.

"Sam?"

"Sarah, hi," Sam wondered if he sounded as breathless as he felt. "I'd really love to but, uh, I can't go anywhere tonight."

"Something wrong? Sam, what is it?" The concern in her voice was so clear, he felt like the last time he saw her was only a few weeks ago instead of years.

"It's nothing, really. Dean's not well, and I can't leave him alone. But, uh, how about tomorrow?" Oh, god, did that sound as desperate as he thought it did?

"Is he all right?" she asked.

"He's fine, just gave us a scare, that's all." At least it wasn't a damn heart attack.

"You sure he'll be well enough by tomorrow?"

"Yeah, pretty sure," he said, nodding his head even though he knew she could not see him. "So, tomorrow?"

Her laugh sounded so natural in his ear, it brought a smile to his face. "Okay, I think I can swing it tomorrow. Seven okay?"

"Yeah, seven sounds great." He really needed to get that smile under control before rejoining Dean and Rae, though he doubted Dean would pick on it in his current state.

"Looking forward to seeing you, Sam. Bye."

"Me, too. Bye, Sarah." He stared at his phone a moment, picturing her face, before sliding it carefully into his pocket.

"Looks like it'll be just the two of us again tomorrow night, kiddo." Dean's voice came from behind him

Sam turned slowly. Both Dean and Rae watched from the kitchen doorway, grinning. Oh, shit. "Aren't you two supposed to be cleaning up that mess?"

Dean's broad smile looked positively goofy at this moment. "Sarah, huh? She still," he tried to whistle. After several failed attempts, Dean went with a rocketing hand motion. "Smokin'?"

"Dean, go sit down before you fall down," Sam spun his brother around, marched him back to the couch.

"Who is Sarah?" Rae demanded.

"Uncle Sam has a girlfriend," Dean sang as Sam forced him to sit.

"Girlfriend?" Rae asked, tugging on Sam's arm.

"Not girlfriend. She's just an old friend. We're meeting to catch up." Sam told her.

"Sam and Sarah, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S…" Sam smacked his brother in the back of the head. Dean looked back with unfocused eyes. "Dude, losing your touch. Barely felt that."

"Dean, if I shot you, I doubt you'd be able to feel it right now." Sam tried to reign in his frustration, but it had been a trying day.

Dean shook his head. "You wouldn't do that, Sammy." The silly grin returned. "Did I tell you what a great little brother you are?"

"Yeah, Dean," Sam kneeled down in front of his brother, "you might have mentioned it."

"Come here," Dean leaned forward over his organized stacks of stuff, "wanna show ya something." He picked up one stack, held it out. "But you have to give it back."

"What's this?" Sam asked. The old photograph on the top was a picture of Dad, him and Dean. Dean could not have been more than twelve, which would make him about eight.

"That's my Sammy stack," Dean replied, chuckling.

The next picture was of him sleeping in the Impala with a white plastic spoon sticking out of his mouth. He flipped it around. "You had this printed?"

"It gets better," Dean promised. Those words sent a chill down his spine. Sure enough, there were some extremely embarrassing pictures inside, including a number from the Nair in the shampoo incident. Sam debated on whether to slip those out for an innocent little burning later. Looking at his brother's open, trusting face, Sam had to decide against it. If he betrayed that trust tonight, the repercussions would be far worse than the silent treatment, he was sure.

The first half of the Sammy stack was photographs, but the second half was all paper items. Several were his report cards. Sam flipped one open, curious why his big brother might have kept any of his report cards. It looked like any of his other report cards, straight A's. He shuffled the report cards to the back.

"Dad, where was this picture taken?" Rae asked, photos spread across the table.

"Uh, don't know. But you're cute in it." Sam looked up from his seat on the floor. Dean leaned over the pictures, one hand on Rae's shoulder, his face beaming. "I keep all the ones you look cute in." Dean winked at her and she laughed.

"If you wrote it on the back right after you have it developed, you'd know," Sam told them.

Dean gave him a funny look. "That could work. Why didn't you say something earlier? Like, seven years ago?"

Sam shot him a nasty look. "I might have if I knew you were keeping pictures like this. And what's up with keeping some of my report cards?"

Dean beamed. "Dude, you always had the best grades. Just wanted to keep some record of that. You and Dad always threw them away." He shook his head, like he could not believe that.

Sam stared. "Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?"

Dean laughed, really loud. "If you think that's bad, keep going," he nodded to the papers in Sam's hand.

Sam slipped the report cards to the bottom. Next was a homemade Christmas card made by a child. When he opened it, he saw a drawing of a tree with lots of presents under it and it was signed 'SAMMY.' How old was this thing? The next one was another homemade card, but for Dean's birthday. As he shuffled through them, he realized Dean must have kept every card he ever made for him. He felt a pang of guilt that the stack of cards was not thicker. At some point he remembered believing that store-bought cards were better, but there was not a single commercial card in Dean's stack.

"You're right," he admitted, "this is much worse."

"Oh, yeah?" Rae shoved a photo under his nose. "Try that!"

Sam took the picture. It was taken of her in the back of the Impala, clutching Ted, her stuffed bear. I might not be so bad, except she was wearing sleepwear that covered her entirely, including her feet, making her look like an overgrown three year old. She had to be at least eight in that photo. Sam grinned. "Can I get a copy of that?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The annoying buzz of his alarm woke Sam far too early. With a groan, he shut it off. Last night Sam decided none of them were going to work or school today, but he forgot to turn off the damn alarm. They were up until the early morning looking at all the stuff Dean collected for his box. Strange, Sam meant to ask how long Dean had The Box, but he never did. Probably too late now, he reflected, forcing himself out of bed.

Sam stretched, moving slowly out of the room he and Dean shared, hoping not to wake his brother. There had been considerable debate on how the sleeping arrangements would be in the apartment. Rae wanted three beds in one room, Dean wanted to share a room with Rae, and Sam barely managed to convince them that Rae needed her own room which left him and Dean to share. So, of course, finding Dean in her room occasionally was not a surprise, which was the reason he stocked up on disposable cameras.

He found his cell phone on the charger in the kitchen. Sam pressed the call button, knowing it would dial Dean's number.

"Uh, hello?" It was the same voice from yesterday, the man who told him Dean had been taken by ambulance to the hospital. He hoped any other calls the man had taken were from women and not related to their real jobs.

"This is Sam, Dean's brother. Can I meet you over breakfast to get his cell phone? I'll buy."

-----------

"Well, it was weird, you know?" Marty, one of Dean's coworkers, hunched over his meal like a wild animal might break in and nab it. Armed with a fork in one hand and a slice of toast in the other, he attacked his plate of eggs, sausage and hash browns.

Sam sipped his coffee. "Weird how?"

"We were just talking about Cindy, and then Joey notices Dean's breathing funny. Got real red in the face, too. Next thing we know, he's got a hand on his chest and he's falling out of his chair." Marty shoveled in the food. Sam was beginning to understand why Dean ate out with this guy. They had identical table manners, and he refused to compare their eating habits.

"Who's Cindy?" Sam asked.

"Huh?"

"Cindy. You said you were talking about Cindy. Who's Cindy?" Sam leaned forward, desperately trying not to stare at the egg dangling from Marty's heavy beard.

"Oh, Cindy." Marty shook his head as he talked around a mouthful of hash browns. "She's Joey's oldest. Only sixteen and pregnant." He shook his head again. "Of course, Joey should have known better. Her boyfriend is twenty-two, man!" He shoveled in another mouthful. "Now she's gonna need a sitter during graduation, in two years."

Sam spun his coffee mug in his hands. "And that's when it happened? When he had the attack?"

Marty nodded, shoving the toast in his mouth. "Boom," he mimed Dean's fall with his hands. "Scared the shit outta us," he said, small sprays of toast crumbs showering the table. "But he's okay now?"

Sam swallowed hard. Watching Marty eat made him nauseous. "Yeah, he's okay now. He should be back at work tomorrow."

Marty's head bobbed. "Good. The guys'll be glad to hear that. Nobody charms the customers like Dean, man."

"I'll bet," Sam mumbled, throwing some cash down on the table. "I have to go. I'll give Dean your regards."

"Thanks for breakfast!" Marty waved as Sam walked out.

Sam walked to the Impala, reflecting on what Marty told him. That coupled with the conversation they nearly had the other day, about boys and Rae and not being able to handle it, told Sam exactly what he needed to know. Dean was having panic attacks about Rae growing up. Great. What the hell was he supposed to do about that?

Sam slid into the driver's seat, cranking the motor, listening to its rumble. If they were still on the road, none of this would be an issue. He had been the one forcing the social issue, the normal life and school stuff. Rae hadn't been the slightest bit interested either. Sam leaned his head against the steering wheel, forcing himself to breathe deep.

Okay, he pushed it this far. So the very least he could do is be there with Dean, side with him against the boys. Maybe that would help, Dean not feeling alone in all this. Sam rolled his eyes, putting the big car in drive. Like Dean would even let him. The last time Dean tried talking about this ended in a death threat. Well, granted, Sam could have been just a touch more sympathetic. That might have helped. No time like the present.

Sam pulled in at the first convenience store he saw. He needed a peace offering. Ten minutes later he was armed with a six pack, the large bag of peanut M&Ms, and three packages of beef jerky. Back at the apartment, he nearly lost his nerve. How ticked would Dean be over his secret box being shared?

Sam pushed open the door, hoping but not believing no one would be up yet.

"Hey Uncle Sam! Dad says I don't have to go to school today because you stole the car." Rae grinned from the couch.

Sam smiled back. "I didn't think you'd be going anyway. We were up pretty late last night."

She stretched and yawned, nodding. Rae looked toward his bedroom and jerked her head in that direction a couple of times. Sam gave her a look that asked 'is he mad.' Her response was a look that clearly said 'duh!'

Sam heaved a sigh before heading to the bedroom door. "Hey, Dean! I got your cell." No response. "And beer." Still nothing.

Sam groaned to himself as he carried his peace offering to the kitchen. He put the beer in the fridge but left the other stuff out. Time to face the music, the very loud, heavy metal music. He shot Rae a smile as he passed, but she just shook her head at him. Oh yeah, this was going to be bad.

With a deep breath to steel himself, Sam pushed open the bedroom door. Dean was on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sam sat on his own bed, facing his brother. "Dean? We need to talk."

"Did enough last night." Dean's voice was hard, with an edge that could slice. Sam winced.

"Dean, no one asked you to bring out your box. Hell, I didn't even know you had it." Sam tried logic first, already knowing it would be a lost cause.

Dean's eyes closed. Sam was on full-out ignore now. Wonderful. Okay, about time for that apology, but Dean didn't 'do' apologies. Was there a way to apologize without saying sorry?

"I like Brad better." He watched his brother hopefully. Dean cracked open an eye to look at him. "He doesn't have that goofy look on his face when Rae's around."

Dean nodded to the ceiling. "I can handle Brad."

Sam allowed his frame to relax a little. "Wonder how Kevin would act if he knew about the weapon's bag?"

"Forget it," Dean sighed. "His father's a judge. We don't need to go there."

"A judge? No kidding?" Sam asked, hoping to keep up the discussion. "I guess that means we need to be more creative."

Dean's head rolled to the side, eyes opening to watch Sam suspiciously. "Creative?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded, "you know, in how we threaten him."

He watched his brother's eyebrows crawl halfway up that forehead. "You want to threaten a judge's kid?"

"Not really," Sam shrugged. "But I think he should know what he's dealing with. That we won't tolerate Rae being hurt, in any way."

Dean lifted himself up on one elbow, staring at Sam now. "So you're saying he needs to be warned?"

Sam allowed a half-smile to form. "Oh, I'd say that boy definitely needs to be warned. I'm just not sure he should know just how much self-defense Rae knows, if you know what I mean."

A smile quirked at the edges of Dean's mouth. "Yeah, I think I get the picture. And you're good with that? I mean, if I invite the kids to, say, the gym and just happen to get in a sparring match with Freddy?"

Sam nearly laughed at that. Freddy had about two inches and fifty pounds on Sam. In a real fight Dean might be able to hold his own against Freddy, especially since his brother was not married to the idea of fair play in a bar fight, but in a sparring match? "Freddy? You serious?"

Dean sat up. "Already talked it over with him. He'll go down – bam – like a rock in the second round."

"Sounds like you have this all worked out," Sam said, leaning his head to one side. It was amazing how he had known Dean his whole life, but there were times when he wondered just how well he actually knew his brother.

Dean shrugged. "Just an idea."

Sam pursed his lips, thinking fast. "Of course, if that doesn't work, we can always take him melon shooting."

Dean laughed. "Only if I get the watermelon." Of course Dean wanted the watermelon, it was the most graphic.

"So," Sam clasped his hands together, trying like hell to keep up this conversation, "what were you saying before you threatened my life the other day?"

Dean groaned, rolling back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Why couldn't she just stay a sweet little kid forever?"

"They have to grow up sometime, Dean." Sam watched his brother, but Dean did not move or respond. "You did know that, right?"

"Yeah," Dean sighed, not moving. "This was the age where you started turning into a real pain in the ass. You and Dad fighting all the time. I don't want to do that again."

"You and Rae don't fight, Dean," Sam reminded him. "When you picked us up at the movie theater, I was going to walk around the building to see what the hell was going on. Rae wouldn't let any of us leave. You really missed the fireworks," he chuckled.

"Yeah," Dean's arm lifted, one finger pointing at him, "that's what I'm talking about. You two argue entirely too much, and stick me right in the middle."

Sam tried to blink away his surprise. This was not where he envisioned this conversation going. "We don't argue that much. You and I argue more than Rae and I do."

Dean sat up, glaring at him. "That's how it starts."

"Dean," Sam leaned forward, looking his brother in the eye, "I'm not Dad. I can admit when I'm wrong." Dean smirked at him. "I can!"

"Whatever, dude." Dean shook his head dismissively.

"So," Sam tried to get back on topic, "how long have you been having these, ah, attacks?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I wouldn't exactly call them attacks."

"Funny, that's what the doctor in the ER last night called it. A two hour, full-blown, panic attack. Since when do you panic?" Sam studied Dean, looking for some sign that this was all an elaborate joke, even though he knew better. When his brother did not answer, Sam pressed, "How long, Dean?"

Dean shrugged. "Not sure. Maybe…"

"Maybe what? How long do you _think_?"

Dean rubbed this back of his neck. "Since we got the apartment."

Sam nodded. Once again, it was not the answer he expected. "Is it more the staying in one place, or the boys?"

Dean studied the bed, engrossed in the pattern of the cheap comforter. He shrugged.

"Or the whole, 'Rae's turning into a teenager and there's nothing I can do about it' thing?" At least, that part he could certainly sympathize with. "Because that's what has been bothering me."

Dean's eyes flashed up to meet his. "Really?"

"Yes, really." Sam stood, pacing in the small room. "I mean, it's not like you're the only adult around, you know. Hell, half the time I feel like I'm the only adult here." Sam threw his hands up in the air. "And when you're not referring to me as Rae's mother, you usually ignore anything I have to say regarding her unless it involves school." His pacing was faster, more frantic. "Sometimes I feel like you don't even want me talking to her!"

"Whoa, whoa." When Sam spun around to continue pacing, he found Dean blocking the way. "Hey, Sammy, relax. Or you're going to be having these panic things next."

Sam glared down at his brother, wondering how this train managed to go so far off track.

"Okay, just sit down?" Dean motioned to the beds. Sam sat opposite his brother, still feeling on edge.

"You're right," Dean told him. "Sometimes I don't want you talking to her, because I'm afraid you're going to start arguing again." Dean took a deep breath. "Sam, you may not be Dad, but you started most of those arguments. I'm not doing that again."

Dean looked at the wall, the bedspread, anywhere but Sam. Sam waited. The silence was tense and heavy.

"I'll try not to argue," Sam promised, unable to contend with that silence any longer. This was not what he wanted, but maybe this conversation was what they both needed.

Dean nodded. "And I'll try to include you more." His brother looked up, a smirk on his face. "You know, since you're the mom."

Sam rolled his eyes. At least most things were getting back to normal. "So, are you seeing a doctor about these panic attacks?"

Dean's interest in the bedspread rose again.

"Then we'll need to find a doctor." Sam stated firmly, standing. "But today we'll take it easy. I won't even tease you about keeping all those cards I used to make for you."

Dean's head fell into his hands. "Oh, god."


	12. Chapter 12

Okay, I just found out something really interesting. Over on LiveJournal there is a CW Fan Fiction Newsletter (no affiliation with the CW) and my Sammie Rae stories have made their recommended reading list. WOW!! So - BIG thanks to the CW FF Newsletter and any new readers we have because of that. Also - another BIG thanks to _**Brigid Tanner**_ who offered to proof my work, and give me a swift kick you-know-where when I'm too slow in updating.

**Chapter 12**

"Dad?" Rae peeked in the bedroom, hoping her dad had moved from his position on the bed. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, his face in his hands. "Uh, can I have jerky for breakfast?"

He lifted his head just enough to look at her over his fingertips. "How bad was it last night?"

Rae frowned. What was Dad talking about? She slipped into the room to sit beside him. "What do you mean, how bad was it?"

He groaned, dropping his hands. "You know," he waved a hand, "with the box." His head dropped down, chin resting on his chest.

Rae grinned. "It was really great, Dad." She watched as his head lifted a little. "I had no idea you kept all those pictures and drawings. It was neat seeing them again. There was stuff I totally forgot about." She leaned against him. "So, why haven't you brought it out before?"

He shrugged, one arm wrapping around her shoulders. "Guess I can't hide it anymore, huh?"

"What I don't get is why you were hiding it in the first place," she said. "Or was it because of those bald pictures of Uncle Sam?"

"Shit!" Dad charged out of the room like his pants were on fire. Rae followed at a slower pace, finding him digging through his box. She pulled the photos out of her pocket. Leaning around Dad, Rae waved them in front of his face. He snatched them out of her hand. "Not funny."

She grinned back. "Yes it was."

"Dean?" Uncle Sam called from the kitchen, where he sat in front of his laptop. Sometimes she wondered if he could function without it. "Come here. I think I found a couple of doctors you could try."

Dad rolled his eyes at her before heading over, stuffing the photos of bald Uncle Sam into his shirt pocket. "Already? Come on, Sammy. I thought we were taking the day off."

"We are," Uncle Sam held up a beer.

"Jerky?" Rae called out before they got too engrossed in the laptop.

"Eat breakfast first," Uncle Sam shouted back, not looking at her.

That was not the answer she wanted. "Dad?" she tried, hoping for another answer.

His head snapped up to glare at her. "You heard your uncle. Breakfast first." Dad turned back to Uncle Sam. "Fine. What?"

Uncle Sam's eyes were pretty wide as he looked at Dad for a moment, then he pointed at the laptop screen. Rae grabbed a bowl and poured herself some cereal with milk before sitting at the table.

"So what kind of doctor does Dad need to see?" Rae asked over her cereal.

"Don't worry about it," Dad said. "Why don't you eat that in there?" he pointed to the den, clearly inviting her to watch television while she ate.

Rae dropped her spoon in the bowl. "No. I want to know what's going on. What's wrong with you? Why do you need to see a doctor?"

"Rae, honey," Uncle Sam reached out, patted her hand, "I told you, the doctor said it was nothing serious. Nothing life-threatening."

She snatched her hand away. "Dad?"

Uncle Sam looked up to Dad. Rae figured he must have promised Dad not to say anything to her. She leaned back, crossing her arms over her chest, glaring at them both.

Dad pulled out a chair with a heavy sigh. He sat opposite her. "It's called a panic attack. I had one that was bad enough to look like a heart attack, but it wasn't."

Dad looked really worried, that was when Rae noticed her mouth hanging open. She snapped it shut. "Bad enough to look like a heart attack?" she whispered, unable to make her voice louder.

Dad squirmed in his chair with a really guilty look on his face. "Uh, yeah. But don't worry about it, Sammy and me have got it covered."

Rae stared at Dad, unable to believe any of this. An attack that looked like a heart attack but wasn't? What if it was a heart attack? What if Dad…

--------------

Dean watched Rae race from the kitchen, tears streaming down her face. "Well, that could have gone better." He leaned forward until his forehead rested on the cool table surface. That feeling was coming back, the one that made breathing difficult and his chest muscles contract. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe deep and control it. Dean concentrated on a sense of calm, the way he felt driving the Impala down a long stretch of highway. That feeling passed. He lifted his head to find Sam staring at him.

"What?"

Sam frowned. "Was that one?"

Dean groaned. Cripes. "One what?"

"Dean," Sam had that tone in his voice, the one that set his teeth on edge, "seriously, man, you need to be straight with me about this."

"Weren't you the guy just telling Rae how this wasn't serious?" Dean demanded.

"I believe I said it wasn't life-threatening," Sam argued.

"Yeah, right after you said it wasn't serious!" he shouted. God, why the hell was he shouting? And when did he stand up? "Make up your mind, Sam!" His fist slammed into the wall, sheetrock disintegrating before it.

Dean looked at his arm in shock. It was halfway through the wall that separated the eating area of the kitchen from the den.

Sam stood, inspected the entry hole and then walked around to the den. "Good thing you didn't hit a stud."

Dean pulled his arm gently from the wall. "Yeah. Thanks," he mumbled.

Sam reappeared, leaning around the corner. "How about we see if you can get an appointment today?"

------------------

Dean grumbled something before heading to the bedrooms. Sam sat down, phone in hand, to start calling some of the doctors' offices. After the third time he was refused a same-day appointment, Sam started asking to speak directly with the doctor. The next one readily agreed to an appointment that afternoon, after he explained the situation.

Relieved, Sam headed to check on Dean and Rae. Her door was partially open, so he stood back, listening.

"Come on, Rae. I told you, it wasn't that bad."

"Then why were you at the hospital?" Rae demanded.

"I guess it looked bad," Dean said. Sam noticed his brother's voice was soft.

"Dad," Rae still sounded upset, "you should tell me these things. I'm not a little kid anymore."

"Yeah, I know." Dean sighed. "And I'm not handling that real well."

"Huh?"

Sam pushed the door further open. "Staying in one place for you to go to school is more stressful than we thought it would be," he said, glancing at Dean. His brother had an arm around Rae. "I doubt either of us is handling this new situation as well as we could."

"Who asked you?" Rae snapped.

"Hey," Dean pulled her closer, shaking her a little, "be nice. We're all family here."

Sam had been ready to back out of the room before Dean said that. Now he remained where he was, leaning on the doorframe.

"Sorry," Rae mumbled, looking down.

"Yeah, me too," Sam admitted. Both Dean and Rae gave him a strange look. "I should have picked you up when I found out Dean was in the hospital." Sam scratched the back of his head. "If Dean had pulled that with me over Dad, I would probably still be pissed about it."

"Are you in here because you found a doctor?" Rae asked, still sounding a little hostile.

"Uh, actually, I did." Sam stepped into the room. Might as well get this over with. "We have an appointment for two."

"We?" Dean asked. "Don't you mean, me?"

Sam cleared his throat. "Ah, no. The doctor would like to meet all of us."

Dean and Rae asked simultaneously, "Why?"

"I guess we'll find out at two."

--------------------------

Dean stomped toward the waiting room, jerked his head at his brother before sitting down next to Rae. Only Sam could find a psychiatrist/psychologist willing to make a same-day appointment in this stupid town. The little white paper with his prescription felt heavy in his pocket. The doctor told him to take one if he felt an attack coming on, that it should help to relax him.

He rested a hand on Rae's leg. What would relax him would be to hit the road, get away from all these people they had to see every freaking day now. Like Marty at work – the guy was starting to act like they were best friends or something just because Dean liked eating lunch with him. Hell, Sam was more fun to hang out with than Marty, but Marty knew all the best places to eat cheap.

"Dad?" Rae whispered, forcing Dean to lean over to hear her. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he smiled at her, "just fine. The doctor wants to talk to you, too. I warned him you might not talk to him if you went in there alone."

"And?"

Dean shrugged. "He said he didn't care. But he definitely wanted to talk to you alone." He leaned in close to whisper, "You okay with that?"

She shrugged. It was not convincing. Dean wondered if he should get her gun from the trunk before it was her turn.

"Will you be right outside the door?" she asked softly. "So I can call you if I need to?"

He squeezed her leg. "You bet."

The doctor did not take long with Sam at all, much to Dean's surprise. He expected that to last, considering how much Sam liked to talk. Sam held the door open for Rae. Dean followed, pointedly standing outside the door when the doctor closed it. He leaned against it, studying his brother. Sam had definitely looked better.

"How did it go?" he asked.

Sam looked away, avoiding eye contact. "Fine."

"What did he say?"

Sam shrugged.

"Still meeting Sarah tonight?"

Sam's eyes snapped back to him. About frigging time. "What? Sarah?"

"Yeah, genius," Dean said with a smirk, "don't you have a date tonight?"

"Oh, uh, I don't know. I was thinking that maybe you could take the night off. You know, go shoot some pool or something." Sam gave him that fake smile.

"Shoot pool?" Dean stared back. What the hell did that doctor say to his brother? "Sam, you're going on that date. We'll be just fine."

"But, you know, I don't remember the last night you went out to play pool." Sam was nearly whining now.

"Sam," Dean glared at him, "if you must know, I took the girls out to play pool last weekend. What the hell is wrong with you?"

Sam's jaw dropped. "You took the girls out to play pool? Are you crazy?"

"It's a family pool hall, Sam. Besides, it's not like Rae hasn't seen her share of pool halls before." Dean leaned back against the door, trying to see if he could hear what was going on inside. "Now, what's up with this giving me the night off crap?"

Sam's eyes widened, making him look more like that hurt puppy dog. Dean swallowed the irritation he felt over that. "Nothing. Just trying to be nice, that's all."

"Is that what he told you?" Dean demanded. "To be nice to me?" The damn doors here must be soundproof. He shifted around, trying to put his ear closer to the door.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked. "Are you trying to listen in?"

"Ssshhh!" Dean hissed, waving a hand at his brother.

"Sir, you should really step away from the door. That's a private conference." The woman at the reception desk rushed over to them.

Dean shifted his glare to her. "That's my kid in there. I'm not moving."

"Sir, you really should…"

The door opened. Dean fell back, catching himself with the doorframe. He threw the doctor a quick grin as he searched for Rae. She rushed from behind the doctor to throw herself on him.

"Hey, Sunshine," Dean held her close, "what happened?"

The doctor, a middle aged man with streaks of silver in his dark brown hair, motioned for them to step inside. "I would like to see you all again in a week. Dean, let me know if there are any side effects from that medication immediately, just call the office. How does next Tuesday sound? Same time?" He opened an appointment book on his desk.

"Uh, we kind of have jobs," Dean replied. "I'm only here because he made me," he jerked his head at Sam.

The doctor smiled. "I understand. Well, let's discuss when would be convenient for all of you."

Dean wondered if he slammed his head into the wall now, would that constitute a need for stronger meds to be forced on him. This thing was really getting out of control now. All of them were in therapy? Great, what would be next? Group hugs?


	13. Chapter 13

Yes - a new chapter! Lil' Sammy only has a couple more chapters to go, after that this story will be my primary focus. Honest. Big thanks to everyone sticking with this story and to _**Brigid Tanner **_for her proofing and catching my stupid mistakes. Thanks all!!

**Chapter 13**

Sam stared out the passenger window, wondering about this doctor. The man had explained basically what Dean experienced during a panic attack, ranging from mild to the one severe enough to land him a spot in the ER. Then the doctor made suggestions on how Sam could help reduce Dean's stress levels. It was the suggestions that Sam questioned. It was pretty obvious the man had no idea what Dean was all about after talking to his brother for only an hour.

"Sam?" Sam's head spun around at the worry in Dean's voice. Then he saw Dean's face. His brother's brows were drawn, forehead scrunched in a hundred worry lines, lips thin and pressed.

"What's wrong?" he asked, automatically reaching out a hand to rest on Rae's knee. He felt her trembling under his hand. Using his other hand, Sam fished out his cell. That doctor had some explaining to do. As he searched for the doctor's number in his call list, Dean pulled off the road into a parking lot. Sometimes all the time they spent together really did pay off, like now when they could practically read each other's minds.

The phone rang twice before the receptionist picked up. "This is Sam Cooper. I need to speak with Doctor Schuller."

"I'm sorry, Mister Cooper, but the doctor is in with another patient at the moment. Can I have him return your call?"

Sam felt intense anger well up. "No, you can't!" he snapped. "You can get him on the phone, right now!"

He felt a strong hand grasping his phone. Sam released it into Dean's grip.

"This is Dean Cooper," he heard his brother spit out, "you tell that quack he can either get on the phone right now and explain what he said to my kid, or I'll be back there in about five minutes kicking in his door!" When he heard Dean actually growl, Sam felt a satisfied smile cross his face. "Not long."

"She's getting him?" Sam asked, feeling the question was unnecessary.

Dean just shot him a glare which clearly meant 'duh, Einstein!' "Yes? ... I wouldn't be calling if there wasn't a problem! Rae is completely freaked out. I swear, if she got any closer to me, we'd be wearing the same clothes. … What? … Oh, great. Fine. Whatever."

Dean thrust the phone back. "Don't freaking believe this," he mumbled.

"What is it, Dean?"

Dean backed out of the parking space. "We're getting a house call."

Sam's eyebrows shot up. "From Doctor Schuller?"

"Nope. His partner, Doctor Smith." Dean pulled onto the road, then wrapped an arm around Rae again.

"And why is he paying us a house call?" Sam asked.

"She. Because she's been to our house before," Dean said, turning toward the apartment.

Sam sat silent for a few moments, processing that. "How's that?"

Dean shot him a strong look. "She's Kevin's mom."

Sam ran his free hand over his face. "And his dad's a judge. We definitely need to rethink the warning."

Dean barked out a laugh. "You think?"

Rae was still shaking when they reached the apartment. She clung to Dean for the walk from the car to the couch. They sank down on it together. Sam was unsure what he should do. He stood staring at them on the couch, feeling like an immense third wheel.

"You got beer and jerky earlier?" Dean asked, jerking his head toward the kitchen.

"Uh, yeah," Sam headed for the kitchen, grateful for the assignment. When he came back with two beers and a bag of jerky, Dean and Rae had moved over enough for him to sit down. Dean looked pointedly at the empty space as he reached for a beer. "So, how long?" Sam asked as he sat next to them.

Dean shrugged as he motioned with his unopened beer. Sam popped the cap off before doing the same to his own beer.

"You know," Sam mused, "this might not look too good. Drinking beer while waiting for a house call from a psychologist."

Dean chuckled. "Too damn bad." He jostled Rae. "Want some jerky?"

She shook her head, clinging tight to Dean. Sam sighed, that third wheel feeling pretty intense now. "Why don't you ask her what he said?" Sam suggested.

Dean shot him a puzzled look. "Why don't you?"

Sam glanced over. "I'm not the one she's hanging on to like a lifeline."

Dean grinned. "Wanna bet?" He pointed.

Sam looked down. Rae had one hand wound tight in his shirt. When did that happen? "Rae, something you want to tell us?"

Rae shook her head, burying her face in Dean's chest. Sam grabbed the remote, flipping through the stations until he landed on Die Hard. He stopped, content with a little mindless violence until the doctor showed up. Dean laughed at some of Bruce Willis' antics, as though it were the first time he ever saw this movie. A knock on the door interrupted it.

Sam had to slip his outer shirt off to answer the door because Rae refused to let go. When he led Kevin's mother in, who he barely recognized as the same woman who came tearing out of the house in tears the day they brought Kevin home from the movie theater, Rae was holding his shirt like a security blanket.

"We'd like to know what has her so freaked out," Sam told her, pointing out Rae. "You might have guessed, this is not normal. Doctor, uh," Sam realized he did not know her last name. Well, that was some lack of parenting skills, wasn't it? Not even knowing the last names of Rae's friends.

"Smith," she said with a smile. "Susan Smith." She perched on the side of their coffee table after pushing Dean's box out of the way. "Rae, Kevin tells me you're the reason your group got A's on your history assignment."

"Really?" Dean asked, eyes dancing between Susan and Rae.

"How's that? Rae, I thought you kinda froze up during the presentation?" Sam asked, trying to nudge his niece to get her attention. This silent clinging was more than a little unnerving.

Rae shrugged, but it was the most response they had from her since leaving the doctor's office.

"I understand the whole newscast idea was hers," Susan replied. "Very creative."

"Really?" Sam was surprised. "I thought that was a great idea."

Rae mumbled something. Dean lifted her face up. "Try that again," he said gently, "now that we can hear you."

"The commercials were Uncle Sam's idea," she said, lowering her face back to Dean's chest.

Dean shot Susan a quick smile and nod, telling her to keep going. Susan smiled back. "I understand your history teacher wants to videotape it?"

Sam noticed the same surprise cross Dean's face that he felt. "How's that?" Sam demanded. "Rae, you didn't tell us that! That's wonderful."

"Yeah," Dean tried to shift her up to look at them, without much success, "we're real proud of you."

Rae did lift her face then. "But you won't be!" Tears streamed down her face.

"Hey, hey," Dean rubbed her shoulders, "what's that supposed to mean?" He leaned over her, shooting Sam a worried glance. Sam had no idea and could only offer a confused head shake in response.

"Rae," Susan leaned forward, resting a hand on Rae's knee, "I can see Doctor Schuller said something to upset you. I'm sure he did not mean to. Can you tell me what he said?"

Rae lifted her tear-stained face, looked right at Susan Smith. "He said my dad wouldn't care any more."

Sam could feel Dean bristle at that. "Uh, Rae? Were those the exact words Doctor Schuller used? Can you tell us exactly what he said?" Sam squeezed her other knee.

Rae looked at Dean before taking a deep breath. "He said…said that…" she paused, biting her lip, "that Dad wouldn't worry any more!" Her face smashed back into Dean's chest.

Dean immediately relaxed, exchanging a relieved look with Sam. "Uh, honey?" Sam bit back the laugh aching to escape. "I don't think he meant it that way."

She spun back to glare at him. "But that's what parents who love you do! They worry! If he makes Dad not worry any more…" her voice trailed off into a series of loud sobs as she clutched at Dean.

Sam raised his eyebrows at Susan, hoping she had a miracle fix for this.

"I see," Susan replied, biting her lip. "Rae, I promise, that was not the kind of worry Doctor Schuller meant. He meant that your dad would not worry enough to be sent to the hospital again." She practically had to shout to be heard over Rae's crying.

"Want me back there again?" Dean asked, the sound of his voice immediately silencing Rae's sobbing. "Because I don't."

She shook her head, moving away just enough to look him in the eye. Dean glared at her. "Do you really think anything could make me stop worrying about you?"

"Or keeping pictures of you?" Sam demanded, pointing out Dean's formerly secret box. "Come on, Rae. We're family."

"Rae," Susan leaned in, trying to catch Rae's eye, "it sounds to me like you have a very loving and supportive family here. Nothing Doctor Schuller or I could do would ever change that. And we wouldn't want to."

Rae took a few deep breaths, wiping her face with her hands. "Guess I look like an idiot, huh?" She tried to chuckle, but it sounded forced and artificial.

Dean kissed her on the top of her head. "Great kid," he muttered.

On impulse, Sam reached over to wipe away a stray tear Rae missed. "Yeah," he agreed, "great kid."

Rae turned wide, wet eyes on him. "Yeah?"

"Yes," he said with a nod. "And I think you've been slacking off enough in our classes, young lady." He shook a finger at her. "Tomorrow, after school, it's just you and me."

Rae leaned on Dean, nodding. A small smile flitted across her face. "Good." Dean's arm was still draped over her shoulders. Rae grabbed it with both hands. "Dad? Do I have to sleep by myself tonight?"

Dean let out a sigh. "You remember the deal, kiddo."

"Deal?" Susan asked. "What deal?"

Dean's eyes narrowed, an indication of his brother deciding whether or not this woman deserved to know such an intimate detail of their lives. "Rae has to try to sleep by herself. If she can't, or if she has a nightmare, she can come get me."

"Just you?" Susan asked. "Not her uncle?"

"What?" Dean asked, his question blending with the same word coming out of Sam's mouth.

"Well, it's just that it's pretty obvious that you two are raising Rae together. Do you split duties? Dean has nighttime and Sam has daytime, like these extra classes you mentioned?" Susan's face appeared open and curious, no judgment there.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean snapped.

"You know, you may have a point there," Sam leaned back, studying Kevin's mother. "You're pretty sharp."

She smiled at him. "Thank you."

He felt the back of Dean's hand on his arm. "What the hell are **you** talking about?"

"That's exactly what we've been doing, Dean," Sam turned to face his brother. "We split duties. You have mornings, I have afternoons. You make her feel safe, I worry about education." Sam scratched the back of his head. "And we both worry about keeping her safe and that other thing."

"What other thing?" Susan asked.

"Boys," they answered together.

Sam felt Rae's eyes before looking at her. She stared up at them in amazement. "What about boys?"

"Nothing." This speaking in unison thing was starting to creep Sam out. He tried to ignore it.

The Susan's lips twitched. "The teen years are often as difficult for the parents as for the child. That is perfectly normal."

"I'm just an uncle." Sam did not know what spurred him to say it out loud. It was like his mouth was spouting out at random.

Susan cocked her head to the side as she regarded him. "I suspect you're selling yourself short."

"He is," Dean said. "Sam's the mom."

Sam did not need to look over to see the smirk on Dean's face, he could hear it in his brother's voice. Sam shut his eyes and shook his head.

"Hey, don't you need to start getting ready for your date? You know how long it takes for you to do your hair."

Sam nearly bit Dean's head off for that one, but Doctor Schuller's words seared through his mind. 'Whatever you can do to take stress off of Dean, until we get his anxiety under control.' "I didn't say I was going, Dean."

"Why not?" Dean demanded. "Dude, you don't have that many dates. This one actually called you. It's either that, or next weekend I'm going to have to hit the bars and find a gal for you."

Sam thought 'you wouldn't!' But he knew better. Dean would. No doubt. Then again, maybe by going out on a few dates, Dean would worry less about him. That thought had not occurred to him before. "Fine. I'll go." He checked his watch. "But it's only four thirty. I'm not meeting Sarah until seven."

"I should go. Kevin worries when I come home late." Susan stood, smiling.

"Thanks for coming," Dean said, not bothering to stand. "Think you can sit in on our next appointment?"

She flashed him a broad smile. "I'd love to."


	14. Chapter 14

I know I'm keeping you all waiting on Lil' Sammy so I figured I could at least more some more about Rae's family, since I've been neglecting them too much lately. Thanks to _**Brigid Tanner**_ for proofing and, btw, she approved of my rendition of Sarah here and even made the supreme sacrifice of watching Provenance before reading this to prepare for it. Please bear in mind that it has been at least 7 years since she and Sam met and they have not spoken in all that time. I hope it meets with your approval as well!

**Chapter 14**

Sam fidgeted, watching the door. Sarah said seven and it was now ten after. He wondered if maybe she set him up to just sit here waiting. He raked a hand through his hair, trying to tell himself that Sarah would not do that. He was just nervous. Sam checked his watch again.

"Hey, stranger," a bright voice said.

Sam's head snapped up. "Hi, Sarah." He grinned, relieved at the sight of her long dark hair and laughing eyes. Sam jumped up to hold out her chair.

"Still the gentleman," she said, sitting. "Even in a coffee shop."

Sam sat opposite, unable to suppress the stupid smile he knew was plastered across his face. "Good to see you, Sarah."

She smiled, cocking her head to one side. "You too, Sam."

"Uh, coffee?" he asked, motioning to the large board displaying the varieties of coffee. "What can I get you?" Within moments, Sam was standing in line to place their order. He returned with two steaming cups, the goofy smile still firmly in place.

"Tell me, Sam," Sarah smiled brightly at him, "how long are you here for?" She leaned forward to whisper, "And what are you after?"

"Actually, we're here for the school year," he said with a shrug. "And," his voice dropped to a whisper, "the worst thing we've come across so far is a junior high library that may or may not be haunted."

"The school year?" Sarah's coffee stopped halfway to her mouth. "Why would you be here for the school year?"

Sam cleared his throat. "My, uh, niece. She's in school this year."

"Your niece?" Sarah set down her cup. "I didn't know you had a niece. Your brother, um…"

"Dean. Yeah. He adopted her a few years ago." Sam sipped his coffee.

"Adopted?" Sarah stared at him. "Sorry, but your brother just doesn't seem the type."

Sam grinned. "He's not. Not really. He, uh…" Sam bit his lip. "I can't really explain right now. But, do you want to see a picture?" He reached for his wallet.

"Uh, sure." Sarah held her hand out. Sam passed over two pictures from his wallet. One was a candid shot of Rae staring off into the horizon, his favorite picture. The other was his recent acquisition, Dean and Rae cuddling. Thanks to the photo shop conveniently located next to the hour pharmacy, he now had plenty of wallet sized copies. Sarah giggled over the second one. "Cute, huh?"

She held up the one of Dean and Rae. "He has no idea you have this, does he?"

"Nope." Sam stuffed it back in his wallet. "He'd kill me."

She smiled at him. "Now that I would believe." Sarah lifted her coffee, taking a sip. "So, why didn't you ever call?"

Sam's stomach clenched. That was the question he had been dreading. He shrugged. "Phones work both ways."

She nodded over her coffee. "I know." Sarah stared at him. "I guess I wanted you to call first."

"Sorry." Sam shifted his cup between his hands. He cleared his throat. "A lot has happened."

"So I see."

Sam shook his head. "Not exactly what I meant."

"I know." He looked into her clear eyes. She smiled at him. "So, who were you having dinner with? Girlfriend?"

"Rae's best friend's mother. We're taking the girls bowling this weekend," Sam told her. "As friends," he added hurriedly. "You were out with one of your many boyfriends, right?" he asked, only half-joking. Sarah was so gorgeous, she could easily have a dozen men chasing after her.

"John is a nice guy, usually." Sarah said with a shrug.

"Usually?" Sam nearly dropped his coffee. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

"He's just a little, um, self-involved sometimes." Her eyes darted away and Sam knew she was lying. He decided not to press. Not yet, anyway.

"So what are you doing here? It's a little far from your father's business." Sam asked, changing the subject. He knew he had to stay in the 'safe' zone in order to find out what was really up with this guy.

"I decided to finally finish graduate school," she said, the determination in her voice making him smile again.

"Good for you," Sam raised his coffee in a toast. She laughed at him as she raised her Styrofoam cup to touch his.

"Thank you," Sarah laughed. "School is going well."

"Uh-oh," Sam sipped his coffee, "I sense a 'but' coming."

She shook her head. "No, Sam. We haven't seen each other in what? Five years? I'm not going to just pour all my troubles out to you after being alone with you for ten minutes."

Sam gave her the smile that made older women bake him cakes and fancy pastries. "Then let's go to dinner. I'll bet by dessert, we're both pouring."

She glanced at the door. "I should probably go."

"More like seven years," he said, leaning forward. "And I thought of you a lot."

"Seven years? Really?" Sam noticed she ignored his other comment. "You sure about that?"

Sam nodded. "Rae is thirteen. Dean adopted her when she was six. So that's at least seven years."

"At least," she agreed. "And now you're in one place? For the school year?"

"I was thinking of calling you, but I figured you were probably married by now." Sam ducked his head, trying to catch her eye.

"No, not married. John would like to, but," she chewed her lower lip.

"I know a great little Italian place where the beer is on tap," Sam tried again. "Come on. They'll even let us bring in the coffee. Dean has the waitstaff wrapped around his little finger."

"Dean does, huh?" She smiled at him again. "Maybe I should be going with him."

"Nah," Sam smiled back. "He's a lousy conversationalist. But I can promise it'll be the best service you've ever had in your life. And we can really catch up." He stood, holding out a hand for her. "Let's go."

Sarah hesitated before taking his hand, but once she was on her feet that dazzling smile he remembered returned. "The service better be good."

---------------------

Sam tried to unlock the apartment door as quietly as possible. He opened the door slowly, figuring at least Rae would be asleep. As Sam crept into the den, he saw the couch was full. Rae was sound asleep, her head in Dean's lap. Dean waved as he came in.

"Give me a hand?" Dean whispered.

"How?" Sam whispered back, pocketing his keys.

"Door."

Sam nodded, heading to Rae's room. He pushed the door open, pulled back the covers on her bed. Dean appeared a minute later carrying Rae. He laid her in the bed, covering her up to her chin with the sheet and comforter.

"Think she'll be warm enough?" he asked as he stepped back, his voice barely a whisper.

"Want the blanket from the closet?" Sam whispered back.

Dean looked thoughtful before shaking his head, heading out the door and back to the den. Sam followed in his brother's wake. Dean leaned against the back of the couch. "How'd it go?" His eyes sparkled.

"Stop it, Dean. We just met for coffee." Sam rolled his eyes.

"Uh-huh." Dean checked his watched. "That was five hours ago." He grinned, his eyebrows dancing all over the place.

"Well, I did talk her into dinner, too," Sam said, leaning on the couch next to his brother.

Dean nudged his shoulder wearing a broad grin. "That's my boy!"

"Oh, I almost forgot." Sam pulled a white paper bag out of his jacket. "Here you go."

Dean took it, frowning. "What's this? Your doggie bag?"

"Nope. Your prescription." Sam did not meet his brother's eyes, guessing how Dean might feel about it. After all, his brother did try to hide it from him in the first place. Good thing Doctor Schuller told him about it.

He heard Dean snort and the crumpling of paper. Sam looked at his brother out of the corner of his eye. The pill bottle went into Dean's pocket. Sam hoped it would take permanent residence in that position, right next to Dean's cell.

"Better than another trip to the ER," Sam said in what he hoped was a casual voice.

Dean cleared his throat. "So you and Sarah had a good time, huh?"

"Yeah, we did." Sam stood there for a moment, reveling in the wonderful evening. "I asked her out again this weekend. She said she'd call me."

"Well," Dean turned to look at him, "she called last time. You're probably in." Dean nudged him again, those eyebrows doing another little jig.

"Stop it, Dean!" Sam laughed. "It was just coffee and dinner."

"I don't know, man," Dean grinned at him. "I always thought she had a thing for you."

"She's seeing somebody." Sam thought the evening over. "But I don't think she really likes him."

"Good." Dean was still grinning. "Then you're definitely in."

"Maybe," Sam rubbed the back of his neck. Something about the way Sarah acted tonight was off. Most of the time she was the same person he remembered, but there were flashes of something else. Something that just did not seem right. He wished he could put his finger on it.

That reminded him, he needed to do some more research on Rae's school library. Amy's research was enough to make it a little suspicious. At least that was something where he knew he could do a little work and find an answer. People? Dean was right about that, there just was no telling about people.


	15. Chapter 15

Big thanks to _**Brigid Tanner **_for proofing this for me! And my apologies for keeping you Sammie Rae fans waiting while I finished Lil' Sammy. I had planned to post this Friday, but I've been without internet access and phone since Friday. Honest - Rae is going to be my primary focus until this story is done. Thanks again!!

**Chapter 15**

Sam ran the fifth search on the chemicals present in the librarian's body at the time of the autopsy. His brow furrowed over the conflicting results. Finally he resorted to his old stand-by, Dad's contacts. Actually, he didn't need the journal for this particular contact, the number was programmed into his cell phone.

"Hello?" The gruff voice was so familiar and warm it brought a slight grin to Sam's face.

"Hey, Bobby. How's it going?" he asked in what he hoped was an off-hand manner.

"Since you're the one doing the calling, I'd guess something is going on with you. What's up, Sam?"

Sam shook his head, though Bobby couldn't see it. It was true, he had been pretty bad lately about keeping in touch. "Actually, I'm working on what might be a case for Rae."

"Rae?" He heard the panic creeping into the older man's voice. "She all right?"

"She's fine, Bobby." He vaguely recalled Dean calling Bobby the time Rae was kidnapped. "She just heard a rumor at school about the school library being haunted, so I'm checking it out."

The whoosh of air from the other end of the line spoke volumes. "So you did it, huh? Talked them into regular school." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yeah, guess so." Sam cleared his throat, still feeling somewhat guilty for causing Dean's panic attacks. "I was wondering if I could send you the autopsy report on the librarian. There were some odd chemicals found in the body and I can't quite figure out what they mean."

"Sure thing, Sam. Anything for you boys. Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah, Bobby?"

"When am I going to get to see that ray of sunshine, anyway? It's been months." If he didn't know Bobby better, he would swear the man was pouting.

Sam chuckled into the phone. "Anytime you want to drive out, Bobby. The door is always open, you know that."

"And where exactly is that door?" he asked.

Sam started. He thought Dean had called Bobby. He quickly relayed directions to their place.

"Should I call Dean first?" Bobby asked once Sam finished giving their current address.

"Only if you want to, or if you're expecting a certain brand of beer."

"In that case," he heard shuffling noises in the background, "I'll see you all tomorrow afternoon. You get home around three?"

Sam tried to hide his surprise. "Uh, more like three-thirty. It'll be good to see you, Bobby."

Sam heard the distinctive sound of Bobby's phone hanging up. He slid the cell back into his pocket. Apparently Bobby felt neglected, if that call was anything to go by. He would definitely have to inform Dean to expect a houseguest tomorrow, and he hoped his brother would not accuse him of it being a set-up. Because it definitely wasn't.

-----------------

Rae trudged toward the school library just behind Amy, feet heavy with dread. How the hell had she allowed herself to be talked into this? Okay, so Dad's problem was panic attacks that came from worrying too much. Right. She got that. How did their interviewing the librarians help with that again? Amy said something about Dad and Uncle Sam not having to worry about the case if there wasn't really a case. And if there was a case, then they could just say that they 'heard' about it and never admit they were ever actually in the library.

Could she even lie to Dad? Rae had no idea, it never occurred to her to try. She never wanted to lie to Dad. He never lied to her. Did he? Oh, shit, they were there! She thought it was further to the library than this.

Rae stopped just outside the entrance to the school library, feet leaden and heart thumping in her throat. Her chest was tight and the air was suddenly heavy, like it refused to go into the lungs of kids who betrayed their parents. She started to back away when she felt Amy's hand on her arm.

"Come on," Amy said through clenched teeth, "it's no big deal."

No big deal. Right. And when Dad erupted like, like…what was the name of that really big volcano?...the one that destroyed Pompeii…Vecu – no – Vesu – Vesuvius. And when Dad erupted like Mt Vesuvius, where would Amy be? Safe at home with her mother. Yet here she was, allowing her friend to drag her along where neither one of them were supposed to be. The closer they got to the desk area where the librarians were, the harder it became to breathe.

The next thing she knew, Amy was talking to one of the librarians. Rae could not even follow the conversation, the blood pounding in her ears was far too loud. Amy kept shooting her odd looks, but all she could do was shrug or shake her head. Finally Amy seemed to notice that she was really having trouble breathing. As a matter of fact, there was less air here than there had been out in the hall, and that was saying something. Someone was trying to push her into a chair, holding out a paper lunch bag or something to her. Rae bolted.

She ran as fast as she could out of the library, through the hall and down the long sloped ramps to the first floor. There she collapsed on the cold vinyl tiles, clutching the short wall that ran along the carpeted ramps. Rae sat there breathing. Eventually she realized Amy's voice was saying something.

"Rae? You okay? What's wrong?" Amy's worried face, hovering just above her, came into view.

She shook her head, unable to answer yet. Not yet. Her throat might work in a few minutes, but not now. For right now Rae was grateful the air was moving here, flowing in and out of her lungs.

"Sammie?" She looked just past Amy and there was Miss Grimmault, frowning down at her. Shit. "What happened?"

Rae shook her head again. Still not ready to talk. Not even to Amy, much less that English teacher.

"Amy?" Miss Grimmault turned on her friend. "I saw you two racing from the library. Mind telling me why?"

Amy fidgeted, eyes darting down at Rae. "Uh, I dunno."

"Sammie?" Miss Grimmault kneeled down, so they were at the same eye level. "Do you think you can stand now?"

Rae checked. Yes, her knees claimed they could hold her weight. She wondered if they were liars too, like the rest of her. With a deep breath, she tried standing. She nodded to her teacher.

"Good. Come along then, both of you." Miss Grimmault led them away. Rae was grateful they were not heading back toward the library, but her stomach plummeted when she realized they were heading for the school offices.

The school nurse was on the way to the principal's office. They stopped off in there for the nurse to listen to Rae's breathing and ask a few questions, none of which she answered, of course. Amy answered for her, thankfully. Then it was off to the grade level principal's office. Damn it. She was really in for it now. Honestly, Rae had no idea what 'it' would be, but she had no doubt she was about to find out.

Miss Grimmault disappeared inside the principal's office ten minutes ago. Amy and Rae exchanged guilty looks, but neither said a word. In Rae's mind, there was nothing that could possibly make this better. She had disobeyed a direct order from Dad. Okay, she did not exactly do it well, but she had done it. She hoped he would be angry, yell and scream. That would be easier than seeing disappointment in his eyes. That was the very last thing she ever wanted to put there.

Her chest was starting to hurt again. Was the air in here getting heavy too?

"Rae?" Amy broke their silence first. "Hey, you okay?" Amy's warm hand on her arm was comforting, a lot like when Uncle Sam did that. But she did not deserve to be comforted and tried to shove the hand away, however Rae found it impossible to move her hands to do it. So she sat there, staring straight ahead, trying to pull air into her lungs. Then she noticed the really long legs standing in front of her. The faded patches on the jeans were all too familiar. She shut her eyes.

"Uncle Sam?" When she opened her eyes again, Uncle Sam was kneeling in front of her, much the way Miss Grimmault did earlier.

"What's going on, Rae?" Uncle Sam did not look happy. He looked rather annoyed, to tell the truth.

"I…uh, we…" Rae bit her bottom lip, rolling it between her teeth as she searched for the right words. "I went to the library," she finally whispered.

Uncle Sam's eyes widened. "After Dean told you not to? Ordered you not to?"

She nodded, felt the heat rising off her guilty cheeks as her head dropped down.

"It was my fault," Amy gushed beside her, "I talked her into it. Honest, Uncle Sam, I had no idea she'd freak out like that."

"What do you mean, freak out?" Uncle Sam demanded.

"Cooper!" The principal's voice bellowed from inside the office. Rae stood, looking hopefully at Uncle Sam. He took her hand and led her inside.

Rae cowered under the principal's scrutiny. She had never been in trouble like this before, with someone other than Dad or Uncle Sam. Now that she really thought about it, which was difficult earlier with all the panic and guilt, Rae had no idea why she was here in the first place. What school rule had she broken? Running in the hallway? Wow, that was a really serious rule.

"Sammie Cooper?" Principal Crowder leaned forward on his desk. She tried to look up, but she felt the weight of Uncle Sam's eyes on her. "I would like to know why you ran out of the school library."

Rae shook her head, studying her shoes. They were still pretty new, only a few scuff marks on the toes. She was pretty clumsy these days. Uncle Sam kept telling her she would grow into her feet soon, but she doubted it. Especially the way Dad laughed every time Uncle Sam said that.

"What were you doing in the library, Rae?" Uncle Sam asked, his voice low with disapproval.

"That's something I'd like to hear, too," Dad's voice boomed in the principal's office.

Rae's head sunk lower. Oh, Dad was going to be so, so disappointed. He would probably never trust her again. Would he send her away? Not want her anymore?

"Sammie Rae!"

Her head snapped up at the order in Dad's voice, the intensity. His face was lined with worry. Great, she was going to send him back to the hospital and then – boom – no more family.

"We…" she swallowed hard, locking eyes with Dad. "We wanted to talk to the librarian."

"After I told you. Ordered you. Not to go to the school library?" Dad's face clouded with anger and something else, something Rae could not identify.

Rae swallowed hard again. She nodded. "Yes, sir," she thought it at least came out a whisper.

He leaned down into her face, so close their noses were almost touching. "Why?" he whispered, most of the anger gone. She only saw confusion now.

"I…I didn't want you to worry." She stared back, knowing he would never understand.

"Grounded," he said in his normal voice. "For a month. Sam?"

"A month works for me," Uncle Sam replied. "We did have bowling plans for the girls Saturday, but I'm sure Karen won't mind rescheduling when I explain the situation."

"Good." Dad straightened up. "So, what school rules did the girls break to land them here?" He faced Principal Crowder, who watched Dad with his mouth slightly open.

"Actually, Miss Grimmault was concerned for Sammie's welfare," Principal Crowder stood to face Dad. They were about the same height, but Dad still seemed to tower over him. Principal Crowder appeared unintimidated. "Sammie's behavior is unusual for a girl her age, which has most of her teachers concerned and rightfully so. You should be expecting a visit from Family Services. Soon."

Dad's eyes narrowed. Rae sneaked a peek at Uncle Sam. He wore almost the exact same expression. This was all her fault. Everything. She was in so, so, so much trouble.

"Number one," Dad's voice was tight, controlled, "her name is Sammie Rae. You may call her Rae. Number two, this is my family." He leaned into her principal's face. "Nobody messes with my family."

Uncle Sam cleared this throat. Dad straightened up, exchanged a look with Uncle Sam.

"So, does Rae go back to class now, or is she suspended for running out of the library?" Uncle Sam asked, also standing. Uncle Sam did not glare at Principal Crowder, though. He stared at Miss Grimmault. It surprised Rae when Miss Grimmault stared back, unflinching. Not many people did that to Uncle Sam or Dad.

Principal Crowder looked at her. "There is no reason for a suspension. Sammie Rae is not to be blamed for her actions."

"What class do you have now, Rae?" Dad asked, glowering at her principal.

"Gym?" She knew her voice quivered, but she could not help it.

"Good," he snapped. "Tell that Coach Green you're ready to try out for the track team."

Rae nodded, dropping her head again. She knew there had to be another punishment coming.

"Sam and I will be out front when school is out."

"Yes, sir," Rae whispered, standing to head to class.

When large, warm hands grabbed her as she went by, it surprised her. Next thing she knew Dad had her in a tight hug, planting a kiss on the top of her head. Rae leaned into it, hoping this meant Dad still wanted to be her Dad, that she didn't screw up too bad. Then he shoved her away, straight into Uncle Sam's arms. After Uncle Sam hugged her, Rae found herself outside the principal's office heading to gym class.

This had to be the second worst day of her life. No, wait, make that the third worst day.

"Rae!" Amy ran up behind her, grabbed her by the shoulder. She nearly spun into it, knocking Amy away like Dad taught her. But Amy was her friend, her only friend. Were friends supposed to get you into trouble like this? "Rae, what happened?"

Rae turned slowly. "They called Family Services. And we're not going bowling this weekend." She shook off Amy's hand. "I have to go to gym now."

She walked away, feet heavy. Rae spent the rest of the school day in a haze. She remembered telling Coach Green she wanted to try out for the track team. He was delighted even if she wasn't. After school the familiar sight of the Impala waited for her. Rae headed for it, filled with dread. She reached for the back door, but Uncle Sam jumped out of the front seat. He motioned for her to sit up front.

Confused, Rae tossed her backpack into the back seat before taking her spot between Dad and Uncle Sam.

"Know why you're in trouble?" Dad asked as he pulled away from the curb and joined the line of cars leaving school grounds.

"For disobeying an order," she said softly, staring down at her clasped hands.

"Did you understand why I gave you that order?" Dad demanded.

Rae sighed. "In case there really was a ghost in the library?"

"That's right," Uncle Sam said gently, placing a hand on her leg, "because we don't want you in any danger."

Now she looked up. "Not in any danger? I've been on hunts with you two."

"That's different," Dad said, pulling out onto the street. "When you're with us, we watch out for you. If you go in alone, you're just alone. Besides," he grunted at being caught behind the traffic light, "it's not like you've ever had to kill anything."

"Yes, sir. Dad? I'm sorry."

"Good." Dad cleared his throat. "For what exactly?"

Rae sighed. "Everything."

"Everything isn't your fault," Dad snapped.

"Or yours," Uncle Sam said, looking at Dad. Rae looked between them, not entirely understanding what was happening now. Dad did not answer, watching the road instead.


	16. Chapter 16

See? I'm being good - another chapter already!!

**Chapter 16**

"How long do you think we have before somebody shows up?" Dean asked Sam, leading his family to the apartment.

"Don't know," Sam said from behind him, "I didn't think to check on that kind of response time for this state."

Dean sighed. "Slowing up there, Sammy."

He heard Sam clear his throat. "Sorry, Dean."

He stopped, right in the middle of the path to their apartment. A man stood just outside their door, waiting.

"Well," Sam breathed next to his ear, "that was fast."

"Damn it," he muttered, pulling Rae between him and Sam. Although intellectually he knew it would not do a damn thing, it made Dean feel a little better. "Can I help you?" he called out, surging ahead.

The man wore a cheap suit and a matching smile. Dean ground his teeth at the sight. This guy obviously worked for the government. The man held out a hand as he approached Dean. "I'm looking for the Coopers. Can you help me find them?"

Dean forced his best smile. "I'm Dean Cooper. What can I do for you?"

The man smiled back. "Well, this is fortunate. Mister Cooper," he started when Dean interrupted.

"It's Dean. Mister Cooper was my father. This is my brother Sam," he said, indicating his younger brother over his shoulder.

"And who is this?" he asked, leaning down to be at Rae's eye level.

Dean stepped between them. "I don't believe you've introduced yourself yet."

"Oh," the man straightened up, "I'm terribly sorry. That's very unprofessional of me." He held out a thin hand that matched his thin smile. "Martin James, with Family Services."

Dean continued to smile, stepping closer with his arms crossed over his chest. "Got any id to prove that?"

"Certainly," the man's thin smile broadened as he reached in his coat, "not everyone asks to see it, you know."

Dean tilted his head slightly to one side. "You're kidding. Are people really that stupid?"

The thin smile dropped from Martin James' face for an instant. "I guess so." He handed over his state identification. "I was not expecting to see the entire family at this time. I must have caught you on a good day."

"No," Dean cast a practiced eye over the id. It looked real. "You caught us on a bad day."

"But I guess there's no helping that now. Should we all go inside?" Sam unlocked the door.

Dean blocked the Family Services guy for a moment before standing aside. If this guy really thought he could do anything to his family, he was in for a surprise.

"May I ask why exactly this is a bad day?" Martin James asked as he stood in the middle of the small apartment, looking around. He held a small notebook in one hand and a pen in the other.

"You're here." The words were out of Dean's mouth before his brain had a chance to filter them. The nasty look from Sam told him that, yes, he said it aloud.

"Mister Cooper," Martin James said with a sigh.

"Dean," he corrected again. "Since there are two Mister Coopers here, first names are less confusing."

Martin James weighed that suggestion as he stared at Dean. "Good point." He nodded. "All right then, call me Martin. As I was trying to say, Dean, the function of Family Services is to help families. You should feel relieved that there are people who are worried about Sammie's behavior."

Dean scowled at that. "Yeah, and they're so worried they can't get her name right."

"Excuse me?" Martin paused in his note-taking.

Sam cleared his throat. Dean shifted his eyes to take in his younger brother. Sam was asking for permission to handle this question. Dean shrugged, turning the floor over to his brother.

"Her name is Sammie Rae. Since there are two of us called Sammy, it's less confusing to call her Rae."

Dean quirked an eyebrow at that. It was pretty rare for Sam to admit to being called Sammy.

"You go by Sammy?" Martin asked, scribbling in that notebook.

"No," Sam snapped, clearly irritated. Dean held in a chuckle. "My brother calls me that."

"And that irritates you?" Martin asked, pen frozen in midair.

Sam rolled his eyes, taking a step back, turning it back over to Dean.

"Rae was named for her uncle," Dean said. "It's less confusing all around to call her Rae."

"I was told she was adopted?" Martin stared at him. "How could she be named for him?" He jerked his head at Sam.

Dean clenched his jaw, keeping himself in check before answering. "I changed her name when I adopted her."

"Why?" Martin asked.

Dean's arms crossed over his chest. "Because there was no way I was calling her Clementine." He felt that familiar shudder when he said the dreaded name.

"Thanks, Dad."

He glanced over to see Rae's still guilty face smiling at him and could not help smiling back. "Any time, kid."

Martin cleared his throat. "If you don't mind, I would like to see, uh, Rae's room? Does she have her own room?"

"This way," Dean headed down the short hall to Rae's room. He threw open the door, stepping inside. "Knock yourself out. But that bottom drawer," he pointed to the used chest of drawers against the far wall, "is off limits."

"Why?" Martin asked, looking around.

Dean shrugged. "Girl stuff, I guess."

"You mean you don't look?" Martin stared at him like he was the absolute worst father in the world.

Dean stared back. "If she ever gives me a reason to look, I will. Rae is a good kid. A great kid."

Martin flipped through his notebook. "Apparently she has been displaying some odd behaviors in school. She refuses to speak with adults except occasionally in class. There are only a few kids her own age she has been seen interacting with."

"Amy, Brad and Kevin?" Dean asked. He watched Martin search through his notebook pages.

"Uh, yes. I believe that's correct. How did you know?"

Dean flashed his hustling smile. "Well, you know, lousy parents like me always know the kids their daughter is hanging out with. Met the parents." He shrugged. "Silly stuff like that."

"Mister Cooper." Dean cleared his throat. "Dean. No one is calling you a lousy parent. There are just concerns about Sammie, uh, Rae's behavior. Typically we evaluate the family, possibly recommend therapy. Our goal is keeping families together in a healthy manner."

"Sounds like that's right off the pamphlet." Dean maintained the grin even though he really felt like knocking this guy into next week.

Martin shrugged. "Well, we're supposed to say that. Now, uh, there was something else." He searched through his notes while Dean waited impatiently. "Oh, something about a disturbing English paper that you took?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "This way." He led the thin government man back to the main room. Rae's paper was still in his box. As he reached in for it, he noticed some new books on the coffee table. "What's this?"

Sam sat on the couch. "Photo albums. I picked them up at lunch today. I figured since you weren't hiding your box anymore, you could use something to keep your pictures in."

"Oh." Dean pushed the empty albums aside, looking for Rae's paper. It was still inside his box. He pulled it out, holding it up. "You can't keep this," he told Martin, "I want it back."

"I may need to make a copy of it," Martin said.

"Sam can make you a copy at work and we can mail it to you or something," Dean told him, "but you aren't taking it."

"May I, uh?" Martin motioned to the couch.

Sam stood, inviting the man to sit with a wave of his long arm. As Martin sank down to read the paper, Sam directed his attention to the kitchen. Rae sat at the counter on a stool, her head down.

Dean sighed. Poor kid, she probably thought this was all her fault. He moved to stand behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders. She tensed under his touch. He rubbed gently, leaned down to whisper in her ear, "But you're still grounded."

He felt her shoulders shake and he hoped she was not crying. She turned slowly under his hands until he could see the smile lighting her face. "Promise?" she asked. "For a whole month?"

Dean nodded. "A whole month."

He was gratified when she wrapped her arms around his waist. "Love you, too, Dad."

"Hey!" Sam tugged at her arm. "I agreed to a month."

She laughed, releasing Dean to hold out her arms to Sam. "Love you too, Uncle Sam."

Sam stepped forward for his turn. Dean watched, painfully aware of the goofy smile on his face yet not wanting to suppress it. He liked his family. It was more than all he had left, it was all he ever wanted or needed. Somehow Rae seemed to fill in the giant gaping holes in his family, the parts that were always missing.

A throat clearing distracted him, causing his head to spin back around to Martin. Martin watched them with wide eyes. "Uh," he held up Rae's paper, "I don't suppose there were any witnesses or any way to verify this?"

Dean shrugged. "Well, my brother was there, but I don't suppose you'll take his word for it?" He waited for Martin to shake his head. "Didn't think so."

"Dolan?" Sam asked.

Dean scowled. He actually preferred that man when he was possessed. "Do I have to?"

"Come on, Dean," Sam argued, giving him that 'you know I'm right' look.

Dean groaned as he fished out his cell. "Wouldn't do this for anybody else," he mumbled as he searched for the number. He found it and pressed the call button.

"Dean? Everything all right?" The attorney's voice sounded thin and scared.

Dean found Dolan's reaction perfectly understandable, and it brought a thin smile to his face. "Dolan? Dean Cooper here. There is a representative of Family Services here asking questions about the circumstances of Rae's adoption."

"What kind of questions?" Dolan asked. Dean thought he could hear papers shuffling and imagined the beady-eyed man writing furiously at his desk.

"Right. About the bear attack on her parents. I don't suppose you still have any of those newspaper articles?"

"I do, but they all cite her as Clementine McDermott."

"That's fine. I guess you'll need to fax them copies of the adoption paperwork, too."

Dolan sighed into the phone. "In the name Cooper, huh? Damn, Dean. You don't believe in little favors, do you?"

"Oh, need that fax number, huh?" Dean asked, eyeing Martin. He had every intention of tossing his phone over.

"One minute, Dean. Did you enroll Rae in public school like you planned? Is that what this is all about?"

Dean's hold on his cell tightened. "Yeah."

"Need any money? There's more than enough in trust for her. You can afford to buy a house there or whatever she needs. At least let me send something." The man actually sounded like he was pleading with Dean.

Dean felt the temperature rising in the room. "I'd rather not."

Dolan sighed. "Look, I'll have an account set up in the name Dean Cooper. If you want to draw on it, you can. If you don't take anything out at the end of the school year, I'll close it. Okay? Come on, Dean, let me sleep at night."

He breathed out a "Fine," before tossing his cell to Martin. "Give him the fax number."


	17. Chapter 17

Thanks to Brigid Tanner and Hotshow for their continual support and suggestions. Now, on with the story!

**Chapter 17**

Martin dropped his pen and notebook in order to catch the cell phone soaring through the air, aimed right at his face. He saw that Dean guy laugh at him as he caught the phone, but he tried not to let his irritation show. It was unprofessional.

He cleared his throat as he lifted the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"This is Dolan, executor of the McDermott Estate. What is the fax number?"

Martin froze for a moment. McDermott Estate? He studied the odd little family engaging in secret smiles in the kitchen. They did not look like they could be affiliated with any kind of estate. Why did the name McDermott sound familiar, though? He relayed the fax number, then insisted on Dolan giving him a call back number. There was something odd going on here.

Martin checked the rooms again. Dean and Sam were both hesitant to allow him in the second bedroom that they shared, making him wonder if they were indeed brothers. There were two single beds in there and it was a bit messy, dirty clothes piled in one corner of the room, but nothing to indicate anything terrible. Rae's room was probably the most barren teenage girl room he had ever seen. He thought it odd she had a queen bed when her father and uncle had singles, but he did not press the issue. She might be one of those kids who sleep all over and fall out of a single bed. The queen bed was something of a relief to see, honestly.

He was not allowed to look through their closets, but they had no problem with him checking all the kitchen cabinets. Martin was surprised at the amount of healthy food he found in addition to the normal junk he expected. Dean blamed, used that word specifically, his brother for the healthy stuff. But when Dean said it, he smiled. That was when he noticed the fist-sized hole in the wall. Dean insisted it was there when they moved in, but Martin seriously doubted that. Even so, Sam and Rae backed up his weak story. Martin made a note anyway.

The longer Martin stayed in the cramped apartment, the less worried he was about this family. There was definitely something odd here, but it was not the family dynamic. There was no fear he could observe between the girl and the two men raising her, they appeared completely at ease around one another. Of course, appearances like that could be deceiving. He really needed to schedule some serious interviews.

"Could I speak with Rae alone for a few minutes?" Martin asked once his kitchen inspection was done.

When he saw the almost frightened look Dean and Sam exchanged, he felt like he may have discovered the way to rooting out the problems here. Even if this was a perfectly happy family with no internal problems, it was pretty clear that the child in question had some serious problems. And if that paper had a grain of truth in it, he could make a pretty educated guess what was wrong. If it didn't, then it was a screaming neon sign for help. Either way, Martin was determined that this girl get the kind of help she needed, but for now he needed to talk to her. Maybe he could get a good idea by talking to her.

Dean turned to him with a shrug. "You can try. We'll be in there." He headed for the shared bedroom.

Sam was slower to follow. He paused by Rae, patting her on the shoulder, before disappearing behind the bedroom door.

Now Rae did look scared, her eyes fixed on that closed door. Martin cleared his throat, trying to get her attention, but her eyes did not waver.

"Rae? I need to ask you just a couple of questions." Martin tried to catch her eye. He waved a hand in front of her face. "Rae?"

She turned to face him and he could literally see her emotional walls slam into place. It was nothing new for him, unfortunately, but it did not bode well. He weighed his options on which tactic might work best with this girl.

"Rae. This is an assessment visit. Do you know what that means?" he asked, making certain he was directly in her line of sight. She shook her head. "It means that this visit determines whether or not we will begin a full investigation of your family." He watched as her eyes widened dramatically, but she remained mute.

Martin slipped his notebook into his pocket, knowing it was often intimidating. "My job is to determine if there is any type of abuse or neglect here. If your Dad or uncle hurt you or don't take care of you the right way," he searched her eyes for some hint if any of this might be the case, "if they have ever touched you wrong?"

The last part seemed to confuse her, but he might be reading too much into her silent reactions. "I need to know if they do anything you don't like, or that makes you uncomfortable. Anything?"

Rae chewed her lower lip, eyes darting to the closed door. She leaned in close. Excited about maybe breaking through to her, Martin turned his ear closer to the girl.

"I have to try out for track," she whispered.

That was so far from what he expected, it took Martin a moment to process it. "Track? Anything else?"

Rae swallowed hard, nodding. "They..they make me," she took a shuddering breath. Martin waited patiently, the hairs on the back of his neck standing out. What could possibly make this girl act this way? "Order dinner."

Martin straightened up. "What's wrong with ordering dinner?" he demanded.

Her eyes bounced nervously from him to the closed bedroom door. She rubbed her hands on her jeans, her voice barely a whisper. "I don't like…talking…to people."

"Why not?" he asked, leaning in closer.

"People…scare…me." That was when he noticed how defensive her body language was, arms crossed in front of her, leaning away from him, eyes almost glued to the bedroom door. With a jolt he realized that he was scaring her, that he forced her to tell him these things. She was practically choking on her words.

He held up both hand. "Okay. I think that's enough for now. You okay?"

She shook her head, staring at the door.

"Why don't you go tell your uncle I'd like to talk to him now?" Martin suggested. Relief flooded her face as she made a mad dash for the bedroom. A few moments later the uncle, looking very disgruntled, appeared.

He stood over Martin, glaring. "What was that about?"

Martin motioned to the couch. "This is just a preliminary interview. We'll have to schedule more in-depth interviews later."

Sam sat on the edge of the couch, glowering. "What happened?" he demanded.

"That is between me and Rae," Martin answered evenly, pulling out his notebook.

A knowing smile crept across Sam's face. "That's what you think." He nodded to the bedroom. "Once he gets her calmed down, I can pretty much guarantee you're going to answer that question."

"Is that a threat, Sam?" Martin held his pen poised above his notebook.

"Nope." Sam held his gaze, intense eyes boring into him. Martin looked away first. "Just thought you'd like a warning is all."

Martin tugged at his collar. Was it warm in here? "Can you tell me about that hole in the wall. If I had to guess, I'd say it was about fist sized."

"Really?" Sam leaned back, looking at it. He shrugged. "I wouldn't have guessed. Have a lot of experience gauging holes like that?"

"I see a lot of domestic violence in my line of work," Martin said, noting the uncle's unwillingness to discuss the hole.

"That's terrible. Must really start to wear on you after a while." Sam did not sound sympathetic at all. Martin decided the guy must still be annoyed over Rae's reaction to his questions. Too bad.

"Hey, Sam?" A gruff voice shouted from the shared bedroom.

"Yeah?" Sam did not move or look away from Martin.

"Come here."

Sam stood, casting periodic looks his way as the larger man walked to the bedroom door. The uncle disappeared into the room, replaced almost instantly with his shorter brother. Dean did not look pleased. As a matter of fact, if Sam looked disgruntled then Dean looked downright livid.

Dean crossed the room swiftly, bearing down on him. Martin resisted the urge to run and hide, especially since there was no place to hide in this tiny apartment. He stood, readying himself for an attack. Waiting with closed eyes for an attack that never came, Martin cracked open an eyelid. Dean, fuming, stood inches away.

"What. Did. You. Say." Dean appeared to be exerting enormous self-control, or succumbing to a large capacity for anger. Unfortunately, this was also a work hazard, one Martin had managed to avoid until now. "Well?" The last word was barely a whisper, yet it conveyed intensity Martin found impossible to ignore.

"I just asked her if you and your brother ever made her do things that were uncomfortable." Martin consulted his notebook even though he had not written down her responses yet. "Apparently track and ordering dinner make her uncomfortable." He was quite proud of the fact he was maintaining his composure despite the fact his heart hammered hard enough against his ribs to be audible.

Dean took a single step back. "Yeah, it does. That a problem?"

Martin cleared this throat, hoping his voice would continue to work. "Yes, it is." He hurried to add, because Dean's eyes narrowed, "Not the fact you are making her do that, but the fact it is troublesome for her. That's not healthy."

Dean's eyes stayed narrowed. "A kid afraid of strangers isn't healthy? You kidding me? After all those don't talk to strangers campaigns?"

Martin sighed. "This is not going well, I'm afraid." His eyes drifted over to that hole in the wall. "That was you, wasn't it?"

A sneer came over Dean's face, which was a welcome respite from the pure hatred flowing off the man. "Nope, it was there when we moved in."

"Fine." Martin slipped his notebook back into his pocket. "Thank you for your time, Mister Cooper. I will be in touch."

---------------

It took every ounce of willpower Dean had not to slam the door behind that man. He glared daggers at the door until he felt a pressure on his shoulder.

"Uh, Dean? I think he's gone." Sam's welcome voice cut through his anger, shoving it away. He allowed Sam to steer him back to the couch, trying to wrap his mind around just how many things went wrong today. Well, when a Winchester had a bad day, it was never a wimpy, half-assed attempt, that was for sure.

"Dad?" Rae stood over him, her voice soft. "You okay?"

With a deep breath, Dean allowed a smile to form. "Sure. Why not?"

"No, uh," Sam fumbled for words.

"No panic attack, Sam. Don't worry." Dean reached out to grab Rae, pull her down next to him. "It's not like there's anything to worry about."

"No?" Rae looked up at him, her eyes full of trust.

"Nah. If I thought for an instant someone was going to try to take you away, we'd leave. Disappear." Dean snapped his fingers. "Like that."

"What," Rae stammered, "what about my friends?"

"What about them?" Dean demanded. At the stricken look on her face, he knew it was the wrong response. She looked just like Sammy did every time they had to move after his brother had made friends. "Hey," he reached out, holding her shoulder, "last resort, okay?"

She sighed, nodding her head.

"Uncle Sam bought some photo albums today. Want to give me a hand?"

"As long as the pajama picture doesn't go in one," she mumbled.

"But, where's the fun in that?" Dean protested, smiling.

She glared at him, but her eyes were smiling. "I've been wondering if Uncle Sam had any good pictures of you."

Dean snorted. "All pictures of me are good."

She opened his box, pulling out his stacks of pictures. "Not what I meant."

Dean exchanged a look with Sam as he lowered himself to the floor. "I know."

"I thought we could put the old pictures, the ones where we were kids, in one album, and use the other one for Rae pictures," Sam said, folding those freaky long legs to join him on the floor.

"So," Dean started sorting through some pictures, deciding what order they should go in, "heard from Sarah lately?"

Sam cleared his throat. "No, not in the last eight hours since the last time you asked."

"Why do you like her?" Rae asked, not looking up from her task.

Sam looked at Dean, eyebrows up. Dean shrugged, giving Sam a free reign with this one.

"Well, she's nice. And smart." Sam handed Dean a few pics for the older album. "Sarah's a good person."

"And smokin'?" Rae asked. Dean choked back a laugh as Sam shot him a nasty look.

As Sam's jaw worked to produce words, the sound of Sam's cell going off saved him. "Thank god," he murmured, standing to reach into his pocket.


	18. Chapter 18

Thanks to _**hotshow **_and _**Brigid Tanner** _for their proofing and suggestions. (They keep telling me I don't need to mention them. Ha! Like _that's_ gonna happen!) Also a big thanks to everyone following this. Doing my best not to neglect poor Rae any more! Don't want CPS coming after me!!

**Chapter 18**

Sam pulled out his cell. When he saw the name in caller id, his stomach did a flip and his heart beat double-time. Man, did they have some lousy timing!

"Hello?"

"Hey, Sam. It's Sarah. Uh, how are you?"

"Well," Sam rubbed his free hand over his head, "I've had better days." He slid into a kitchen chair.

"Really? What happened?"

Sam chuckled into the phone. How could he explain it? "Sorry, it's just a little too fresh right now. So what's going on? Why did you call?" He really hoped it was something good, like she wanted to go out again.

"Well, I was thinking about your school library ghost. It's been a while, but I'd love to help out with the research."

Sam blinked at the wall, not quite comprehending this conversation. "I, uh, work at the branch library near the school. You could meet me there in the morning."

"That sounds wonderful, Sam! I'll see you then. Bye!"

"Uh, okay. Bye." Sam snapped his phone closed. Now that was a weird conversation. After dinner the other night, he wondered if she would even call and now she invited herself to help with ghost research. Well, at least he would be able to spend some time with her.

When Sam returned to the photo album work at the coffee table, Dean was humming the k-i-s-s-i-n-g song. He scowled, slapping his brother in the back of the head.

---------------------

Shrill screams of pure terror split the night. Sam sat straight up in bed, instantly wide awake. A glance to the other bed in the room told him that Dean heard the screams before he did, his brother's bed was empty. Sam jumped out of bed, hurrying to the next bedroom. The door was open and Dean desperately tried to wake Rae. He could not remember the last time she had a nightmare this severe, it had been years.

Sam wondered just how loud Rae's screams were as Dean settled her down, her screaming subdued into sobs and terrified whimpers. She clung to Dean's neck, eyes steadfastly closed and face wet with tears. The knock on the door answered his question.

"Damn," he mumbled, heading for the front door. A quick look through the peephole showed a young man hastily clothed, straight from bed. Sam sighed before opening the door. This scene was familiar and he knew his role. "Can I help you?"

"Everything okay?" the young man asked. "Was the screaming from here?"

"Yes, it was," Sam tried to smile, but lack of sleep and the echoes of Rae's nightmare screams in his mind made it impossible. "My niece had a nightmare."

The young man stared at him a moment, like he was lying. Funny that one of the few times someone chose to call him on something was when it was true. "Okay. All that screaming scared my wife pretty good. If you need anything, we're upstairs."

"Thanks," Sam replied with a nod, shutting the door. When was their next therapy session? Sam wondered what it would take to have both of them sitting in on Rae's session this time. These nightmares, they had assumed Rae stopped having them as severely when the screams stopped, but now that looked like wishful thinking. Were these the same nightmares Rae had when she first came to live with them?

Another knock at the door interrupted that train of thought. Sam opened it without checking first, so he was shocked to see a uniformed police officer standing just outside. "Uh, problem, officer?"

"Yes, sir. We've received numerous nine-one-one calls about screaming." Sam listened feeling dissociated from the whole mess. How long had he been standing in one spot, thinking? How long had Rae screamed before he woke up?

"Sir?" The cop waved a hand at him. "I said the neighbors think the screams came from this apartment."

"Right. Sorry." Sam shook himself, trying to engage his brain. "My niece had a nightmare."

The cop stared at him like he was lying. Huh. Twice in a row. "Must have been some nightmare."

"Yeah, usually. My brother is in there trying to calm her down." Sam jerked his head toward the back of their apartment.

"Mind if I come in, sir?"

Sam stared at the cop. The man was probably in his mid twenties and did not act or look like this was his first call. Would refusing make the situation worse, especially now that Family Services was interested in them? Then it hit Sam, that Martin what's-his-name jerk must have set Rae off. She was scared to death, shaking like a leaf, when he sent her to fetch Sam.

"Why?"

The cop stared at him, face twisting slightly in either concentration or indecision. "The calls were pretty panicked. We need to make sure everyone here is okay."

Everyone here might not be, Sam mused, if this guy burst in on Dean and Rae unannounced. "Okay, but you'll have to follow me. I don't want to scare her." Plus, that comment about 'we need' told Sam the guy had a partner. The last thing they needed at this point was to give the police an excuse.

He knocked lightly on the partially open bedroom door. "Dean? Everything okay?"

"Not really," Dean's voice was calm and in control, but Sam could hear the undercurrent of worry there.

"I need to bring the cops in, Dean. So they can see Rae is okay." Sam said through the door opening, unable to see anything in the still dark bedroom.

"You'll have to get the light."

Sam motioned for the cop to follow, slowly. He stepped inside, opening the door the rest of the way. With a practiced hand, Sam snapped on the small lamp between Rae's bed and the door. What he saw made his heart clench.

Rae, hair wet and matted with sweat, clung to Dean's neck like a lifeline. He sat on the edge of her bed cradling the girl in his arms, whispering into her ear. Her breathing was rough and ragged, an occasional sob breaking through. Shudders wracked through her frame and each time it happened, Dean held her close, rubbing her back.

It was a moment before Sam realized that the cop was not standing behind him anymore. Light from a flashlight played through the room, he guessed searching for evidence of a crime. The cop kneeled in the floor in front of them.

"Hey," he said softly, "I'm Officer Steve. I'm here to see if you're okay."

Rae's arms tightened around Dean's neck. Dean pulled her off his neck gently, though Sam could see it pained his brother to do it. He pushed her arms to her sides, whispering in her ear the entire time. Rae finally looked at the cop, face blotchy and eyes swollen from crying.

"That's better," Officer Steve smiled at her. "Can you tell me what happened? Why you were screaming like that?"

She looked up imploringly at Dean. He nodded, holding her close. "I..I thought…something got Dad." Rae collapsed against his side, eyes shut tight, breathing fast.

"Well, your dad looks just fine to me," Officer Steve said, reaching out to pat her knee. "Honey, was it a bad dream?"

She nodded into Dean's side. Officer Steve exchanged a look of understanding with Dean. "I'll go talk to your neighbors. They'll be relieved, I'm sure."

"Thanks," Dean replied, stroking Rae's hair.

Sam followed Officer Steve back to the front door. Steve handed over a business card. "That must have been one hell of a nightmare."

"Yeah, guess so," Sam said evasively, wondering over the proffered card.

"Just in case you ever need it," Steve said, shoving the card in his hand. Sam closed his fingers around it, watching the officer move to leave their apartment. Steve paused in the doorway. "Usually when kids have nightmares that bad, it's for a reason." He jerked his head toward Rae's room. "She got a reason?"

Sam found himself nodding. "Yeah, a pretty good one," he admitted. "But she hasn't had the nightmares like this since she was six or seven."

Steve's eyebrows shot halfway up his forehead. "Really? That long?" He stepped further away from the front door, into the room. "You mind me asking? What happened?" His eyes drifted back to her door, where Sam was sure Dean was still in full Father Mode.

Sam gritted his teeth. What the hell, they told everyone else. Why not the cops? "She saw her parents killed when she was six. My brother adopted her shortly after that."

Steve let out a low whistle. "Six, huh? Must have been rough." He looked Sam in the eye. "On all of you."

"It was worth it. Still is." Sam replied, suddenly defensive.

"Never said it wasn't, Mister?"

"Cooper. Sam." Sam shook the man's hand.

"Thanks. I need to see if I can settle down your neighbors now. They thought someone was being murdered in here." Steve gave him a small wave before leaving, closing the door behind him.

Murdered? Sam followed numbly, locking the door. Great. There's one more thing for that Martin guy to put in his file. He had a feeling they were going to be on the road again real soon.

-----------------

"Sam?" He lifted his head. Did he fall asleep? "Sam?"

Oh, it was that dream. The one where Sarah showed up. But why wasn't she in the slinky negligee? It looked like she was in a dress, and not a very flattering one at that. "Sarah?"

"Since when do you sleep on the job?" she asked, her laugh loud in the small library.

Oh god, he was awake now. This was not that dream. "Oh, uh, rough night." Sam gave her a weak smile, running a hand through his hair, trying to brush it out of his eyes.

"You missed one," she said, brushing away a stray strand. Sarah pulled out a chair to sit next to him. "So, what happened last night?"

Sam shrugged, eyes dropping to his research. "Rae had a nightmare. Pretty bad one, too."

"Really? How bad?" Sarah leaned on the table, close enough he could smell her perfume.

He smiled again, trying to hide his unease. "Bad enough for the neighbors to call the cops."

"Ouch." She nodded. "That's bad."

"Yeah. Anyway, I spent the first part of my shift trying to get her next therapy appointment moved up to today, and the rest working on this." He waved a hand at the stack of papers and books. "There is something odd there, but I can't find it." He groaned, rubbing both hands over his face. "Maybe Bobby will see something I missed."

"Bobby? Who is Bobby?" Sarah picked up a sheaf of papers, glancing through them.

"A friend of ours. Kind of in the same business," Sam explained. He watched Sarah reading through some of his research. She frowned. "What? See something?"

"Yes." She set the papers back down. "That I am totally out of my depth with this."

Sam looked around, his eyes resting on the art section. "Then I have the perfect assignment for you. It would really help me out."

"Name it."

"Our art section is pitiful. Could you recommend some reference books for us? I'm on a budget, but within that budget I kind of have free reign around here." He grinned. "I'd really appreciate it. Maybe take you to dinner again?"

Sarah shifted uncomfortably.

"What? I say something wrong?" Sam was instantly on the alert.

"Uh, John found out about dinner the other night." She said, staring across the room, not meeting Sam's eyes. "He was pretty adamant that I not see you again, even as friends."

"Oh." Sam waited. Sarah did not offer anything else. "So you're here because..."

Now she did look at him. "Because I told him he was being an ass. I've had it, Sam. He went too far this time." She rolled up her sleeve, showing off a large purple bruise shaped like a hand. Sam felt his eyes widen and the rush of blood in his ears. "So I told him we were finished. Done. Totally over."

"Good idea," he said through clenched teeth.

"So I'd really like to go to dinner with you again." Sarah smiled. "I don't suppose you'd…" her voice trailed off. "Unless you'd rather not?"

"What?" Sam's head snapped up from staring at her arm to her eyes. "Of course I want to go to dinner with you. Dinner, movies, bowling, darts, you name it. I'm just having a hard time getting past the fact I want to look up that boyfriend of yours."

"Don't," Sarah laid her hand on top of his. He could feel it was warm and sweaty. "Please. Don't."

He could see the fear in her eyes. "Okay, I won't. On one condition."

"What?"

His anger dissipated as he stared into her eyes. "Oh, I'll think of something."

---------------

_Well, what should Sam's condition be? I'm wide open to suggestions!!_


	19. Chapter 19

I've been told that at the end of this chapter Sam is acting a bit "Dean", but after _Heart_, I've revised my opinion of Sam. As always, BIG THANKS to everyone following this. I do try to keep up with and respond to all reviews, positive/complaints/suggestions/questions. Also, continual thanks to **_hotshow _**and **_Brigid Tanner_** for their efforts in keeping my writing coherent and on track. (Still taking suggestions on what Sam's condition could be. I've had some interesting ones so far!)

**Chapter 19**

Dean grabbed his tool rack, shoving it against the wall. Rae's English teacher was a complete bitch! He stormed to the manager's office, needing to explain yet another day off. Unfortunately, Sam had his car. This musical car thing was really turning into a royal pain in the ass. Not only did his boss give him the day off, but gave him the loaner car again. Dean swore it would be the last time. Okay, there was no way he could back that one up, but it sounded good.

He drove the loaner car up to Rae's school. After signing in at the front office, Dean made his way through halls thronged with students. Suddenly the hall was empty except for one or two kids and a bell rang. Well, at least he was not too late. He hurried to reach Miss Grimmault's classroom.

As he raced around the corner, he saw a line of students leaving the classroom. Dean stood to the side, waiting and watching. Rae was not in the line. He peeked into the classroom. She sat in her chair, arms crossed over her chest, staring down at her desk.

"Psst!" Dean hissed into the room. "Don't you have some research to do?"

Rae's head snapped up. "Dad? What are you doing here?"

He grinned at her. "If you have to do your research in class, then I guess I have to go to the library with you. Come on, Sunshine."

She smiled, snatching her bag off the floor. Rae raced out into the hall. Dean had to jog to keep up with her. "So," he breathed as they hurried to catch up with her class, "make the track team?"

She scowled. "Yes."

Dean nodded. "I can see why." He could almost feel her eyes roll at that and chuckled to himself.

They reached the library with the class stragglers. Rae took a seat as close to the door as she could, pulling out a chair for Dean. Dean slid into it, pulling out the magazines he stopped to buy before coming here. Okay, it made him like half a minute late, but at least he would have something to do while Rae did this research thing.

He flipped through his new Car Craft magazine as the teacher explained the assignment. He half listened, tuning in just long enough to learn the kids had to put together a poetry notebook based on a theme. Miss Grimmault handed out a list of theme suggestions. Dean made a point of ignoring her when she came to Rae's table, pretending to be engrossed in an article.

Once the kids were turned loose to do their research, he noticed a number of boys hovering around. At first Dean thought they were trying to get closer to Rae, but then he realized they were trying to read the magazine from over his shoulder. Dean shooed them away, keeping an eye on Rae. Kevin was the only boy not to take his not so subtle hints. Figured. Every time Rae had to leave his line of vision looking through the bookshelves, Dean timed her. Anything over ninety seconds, he was up looking to be sure she was okay. Sam would call that paranoid; Dean called it better safe than sorry. Kevin kept watching him with an odd look on that sneaky young face. Dean started keeping an eye on him, too.

---------------

Miss Grimmault leaned on the librarian's wide, rounded desk. "Are you watching this?" she whispered.

The librarian, Lydia, shrugged using one shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Miss Grimmault pointed out Mister Cooper with her eyes. "Him. The way he follows her around, won't let the poor kid out of his sight. It's just ridiculous."

Lydia leaned forward. One of the kids from her class came up with a question. Lydia pointed the clueless child in the right direction before answering. "But he's really cute."

Miss Grimmault glared at the woman. "Not that I'm arguing, but what does that have to do with child abuse?"

Lydia's eyes widened almost comically. "Child abuse? You mean, you think?"

"The child is scared to death of adults, won't even answer a question in my class," she hissed, purposefully leaving out the slight possibility that could be partially her fault, "hardly has any friends to speak of, and did I tell you about the paper she wrote in class?"

Lydia wrapped a hand around her forearm. "What?" The younger woman seemed to hang on her every word.

Miss Grimmault relayed the story of the bear attack to Lydia. "Now, isn't that the most ridiculous thing you've ever heard? That child has absolutely no social skills whatsoever. Do you know who her best friend is?"

"Who?" Lydia leaned on a fist, as enthralled as she had been when they had discovered the former school principal was having an affair with the assistant janitor, who happened to be the head janitor's wife. Really, what janitor came to work in high heels?

"Only the biggest social outcast of the entire grade." Miss Grimmault nodded knowingly.

"No!" Lydia breathed. "Amy Simmons made a friend? Well, it's only a matter of time before that girl drives her off. The last one lasted, what, two weeks?"

"Now how would you know that?" Miss Grimmault asked.

"Amy is one of my best customers. Haven't seen her for a couple of days, though. That probably explains it." Lydia shrugged, eyes alight with gossip.

Miss Grimmault checked her watch. "Probably. Well, I'll see you with the afternoon class. Amy is in there, maybe you can ask her."

Lydia grinned. "Maybe I will."

-------------------

Dean made sure he had the time of Amy's English class before leaving the school. As long as he had the day off, he had a couple of errands to run. Not the least of which was finding a car for Sam to drive. He could not take sharing his baby too much longer.

It turned out to be a good thing Sam made him call Dolan, though the ass overdid it again. That man just had no idea of what constituted 'reasonable.' When Dean arrived at the bank, fake id in the name of Dean Cooper in hand, the freaking bank president came out to meet him. They even called Dolan to verify his identity. Way to keep low-key, he thought, grinding his teeth. After twenty minutes of flurried activity he discovered the reason; Dolan set up the account with over a quarter of a million dollars in it. Dean had been hoping for enough to cover a half decent used car. Well, that was covered.

He left with several hundred in cash and one of those banking visa cards that drew directly on the account. Dean figured he could use it to buy a car for Sam. Next question was if he should let Sam pick something out or just show up with a decent car? Dean decided to just pick something up, Sam's tastes sucked.

Dean headed straight back to the shop, having already decided. Okay, it was going to be more car than Sam could probably handle. Tough. It would also be really cool and something he would not mind working on occasionally. Not to mention the fact that he had pretty much rebuilt the whole damn thing himself anyway, so he knew it was in great shape.

His boss was more than a little surprised when he whipped out the card to buy the SS Chevelle parked out front with the for sale sign on it. Dean drove it to the school, anxious to be there in time for Amy's English class. Once again rushing through the school halls with his magazines tucked firmly under his arm he rounded the corner to the library, and he saw Amy's face light up.

"Hey, cutie," Dean gave her a little hug, "so you have this research thing too, huh?"

"Yes, sir, Mister Dean." Amy beamed at him. "Rae said you'd be here."

"Yep," he held up his magazines, "and I'm prepared." He grinned at her. His reception from Miss Grimmault was frosty at best. She even tried to block him from coming into the library. Dean very politely explained that she could either move, or be moved.

While he sat through a second hour of early teens desperately trying to understand the basics of library research, which he denied knowing anything about, Dean's cell phone rang. Even if he wanted to help the kids understand the basics of research, he'd be damned if it was about poetry. Dean fished out his cell.

"Hello?"

"Dean, what size shirt does Rae wear now?"

Okay, that sounded like Bobby's voice. What the hell? "Excuse me?"

"I found this cute shirt. Now what size does she wear?"

Dean scratched the top of his head. "Uh, what kind of shirt? T-shirt?"

"Yes."

"Girl's medium. What's going on, Bobby?" Some of the kids were staring at him. Dean glanced at Amy. She beamed as she looked up from copying a poem into her notebook in perfect girl handwriting.

"Nothing special. You know I hate showing up empty handed."

Empty handed? "You're coming over?"

There was a deep sigh in his ear. "I take it Sam didn't mention it. Look, Dean, I'm sorry. If it's an inconvenience I'll just head back home after I give Rae her shirt. That okay?"

"No, Bobby," Dean struggled to keep his voice to an acceptable library level. Where did Amy get to, anyway? "It's fine. You know you're always welcome. Just caught me by surprise is all."

"Well," the word was drawn out so long Dean knew Bobby had an uncomfortable point to make, "since you never did tell me where you picked to live while Rae is in school, I kinda figured you preferred an old hunter like me stay out of the way."

Dean winced. He felt that pressure encircling his chest, and where had that girl gotten to? He stood, looking for her even as the air refused to go in his lungs. With his free hand he fumbled for the stupid medicine bottle lodged deep in his pocket. He might have to thank Sam later for insisting he carry it around all the time. "Bobby, come on," he said with a shaky breath, "you know better than that."

"Do I, Dean?" Bobby snapped.

Great. In all the confusion and fuss of finding a place to live, choosing aliases to live under for up to a year at least, and all the crap that came with public school, he forgot to make one little phone call. There was Amy, down the next aisle. When did they start putting such big libraries in junior highs? Okay, so it was an important call, and he really couldn't breathe right now. Dean slumped against one of the book racks, dropping his cell in favor of getting the stupid bottle open. Shit!

"Mister Dean?" Amy ran up to him, face shining with concern. "You all right?"

Dean tried to smile, to nod reassuringly, while he battled with the child proof lid. Child proof, huh? More like adult proof. Then Amy proved it for him. She snatched the bottle from his hand and opened it in one deft motion. He held out a shaking hand for her to dump a pill into it.

"Just one?" she asked softly.

He nodded, placing it under his tongue. Within moments he could feel it start to work. The steel bands around his chest eased enough to allow him to draw in air and his legs felt more steady. "Thanks, kid." He smiled as he patted Amy on the shoulder, taking his bottle back and shoving it into his pocket.

His eye caught the discarded cell phone lying on the floor. Damn it. Dean swooped down on it, grabbing it up. "Bobby? You still there?"

No answer. Shit! Dean called Bobby back, hoping the old man would answer.

"Now what?" Bobby's voice was gruffer than usual.

"Bobby, I'm sorry. I really am. I should have invited you over right after we moved in. It's just been…hectic." Dean tried to slow his breathing. The pill's magic was working, but it would take more time to feel the full effects.

"Dean, didn't you just hang up on me?" Bobby demanded.

"No!" He winced at the fact his voice was far louder than he had intended. Dean motioned for Amy to follow him out into the hall. "I just dropped the phone, Bobby, I swear. I even have an eyewitness if you don't believe me."

Bobby chuckled. Dean hoped that was a good sign. "Well, I'm not going to believe your eyewitness if she's female."

"Sorry, Amy," Dean winked down at her, "he won't believe you either."

"Who's Amy?"

"Friend of Rae's. I'm keeping an eye on her while she does some research for English class." Dean explained. Why didn't he call Bobby before now? It wasn't like there had not been opportunity. It just never occurred to him, he guessed. Why not? Bobby was probably the best friend they had.

"Why? Ghost in the library?" Bobby laughed at that.

"Maybe," Dean admitted.

"You serious? Damn it, Dean! You should have called."

Dean grinned down at Amy. "I'll let you kick my ass when you get here. When will that be, anyway?"

"Couple of hours, when school is out. Sam said he usually had Rae home by three-thirty."

"Shit, I forgot about Sam. Bobby, see you soon, I gotta call Sam to tell him I'll pick Rae up. Uh, I'll tell him to pick up some more beer, too. Still drinking the same thing?" Dean shook his head at Amy. She was pointing back inside the library. They could join the rest of her class in a few seconds, after he hung up.

"You know it. See ya then, Dean."

Dean snapped his cell shut, relieved at the fact Bobby at least sounded better. Boy, was he an asshole! How could he not call and let Bobby know where they were? Funny, but it didn't bother him nearly as much now as it did a moment ago. He followed Amy back into the library. She seemed anxious to talk to one of the librarians. Kind of plain looking chick, but not too bad, really. Dean flashed her his best smile as he followed Amy over. At least he could get an introduction for all his efforts today.

----------

Sam seriously considered pulling out that condition to be named later. Sarah flat out refused to go file a complaint about the now ex-boyfriend at the police station. He did manage to get her to take a copy of Officer Steve's card, though. Then Dean called.

"Sarah?" Sam shoved his phone back in his pocket. "Dean is picking up Rae and asked me to stop by the store on the way home, but I doubt they'll be there for at least an hour. And my shift just ended."

"What are you saying, Sam?" Sarah grinned at him. "You naming that condition?"

"Nope, not yet." Sam grinned back. "I was thinking that we had time for some coffee and maybe a trip to the bookstore?"

Sarah swung her purse over her shoulder. "I know of a bookstore with a coffee shop. Let's go."

Sam followed a step or two back so he could watch the way Sarah walked. Oh, yeah, that was the stuff of his dreams.


	20. Chapter 20

Sorry for the delay! Will try to post the next chapter soon. Thanks to everyone following this and to _**hotshow **_and _**Brigid Tanner **_for their continual support and suggestions.

**Chapter 20**

Karen, Amy's mother, seemed a little odd when they dropped Amy off, but did not say anything. She must have asked a dozen times if everything was all right, though. It was not until they pulled up at the apartments that Rae mentioned what Karen must have thought.

"I'll bet she thought something like Columbine happened at school today," Rae said out of the blue as Dean parked.

"What?" Dean shot her a look. "What makes you say that?"

Rae's lips twitched in that way she had when she was trying to figure something out. "Well, the last time you picked up Amy and brought her home was from the movies. I just thought she would equate the two."

Dean stared at the kid in disbelief. It would explain Karen's odd behavior. "Damn," he breathed. "Guess I'll have Sam call her later." He looked over the parking lot. "See Bobby's truck yet?"

Rae squealed. "Bobby's coming?" She bounced excitedly in her seat, reminding Dean more of a six year old than a teen.

Dean checked his watch. "He ought to be here by now." As if on cue, his cell phone went off. Caller id said 'Bobby.'

"Bobby? Where are you?"

"In your damn parking lot."

Dean peered into the parking lot, finally looking past Rae. He barely made out Bobby's truck over the next couple of cars. "Great. Get over here. We're about twenty feet to your left. You can ride with us to Rae's doctor appointment." Dean snapped his phone shut, tossing it on the seat.

Bobby rounded the cars, a large bag in hand. He stared at the Chevelle for a moment, walked all the way around it before hefting his bag at Dean through the window. While Dean jumped out to put the bag in the trunk, Rae shot out of the car to wrap an energetic hug around the grizzled old man.

"Sixty-eight?" Bobby asked, lifting Rae up momentarily before she darted back inside the car. They watched the teen climb into the back seat before taking their places in the front.

"Yep," Dean cranked the motor, letting it idle so Bobby could appreciate it.

"You didn't trade in the Impala, did you?" Bobby's face was open, surprised.

"Don't be ridiculous," Dean snapped, backing out of his parking space, "this is Sam's car."

"Oh." Bobby rode along in silence for a few blocks. "So how does Sam like it?"

"He'll love it," Dean replied.

"We hope," Rae chimed in.

Bobby turned in his seat to look at them. "You mean Sam doesn't know this is his car?"

"Come on, Bobby. You know what Sam is like. He'd probably pick something beige." Dean rolled his eyes for effect. "This I won't mind working on."

"That's a good point," Bobby said with a nod. "So, Dean, you said things have been hectic. What's going on? Why are you too busy to call an old hunter and let him know everything's all right?"

"Phones work both ways," Rae said from the back seat. They both turned their heads to look at her. She became very interested in the scenery outside her window.

"Also a point," Bobby conceded, much to Dean's relief. "I guess I could have called, too. But what's so hectic?"

Dean sighed. "Just…lots of stuff going on. Rae's in school, Sam and I both have regular jobs, her English teacher hates me, there might be a ghost in the school library and, uh, oh yeah – we're under investigation by Family Services."

"That's hectic," Bobby agreed. "Sorry, Dean, guess I should have called…"

"You missed one, Dad," Rae interrupted.

Dean glared into the rearview mirror, trying to silently tell her to shut up. He could feel Bobby's frown on him as he quickly said, "No I didn't."

"What did Dean forget, Rae?" Bobby turned in his seat again, looking into the backseat. Dean scowled, trying to prepare himself for this new round of humiliation.

"It's no big deal," Dean protested, trying to cut Rae off.

"No big deal?" Rae scoffed from behind him. "Yeah, Bobby, no big deal. Just put Dad in the ER is all."

Dean felt Bobby's eyes bore into him as he pretended to concentrate on the midafternoon traffic.

"How's that, Rae?" Bobby's voice was no longer laid back and friendly. He was bordering on angry with a touch of 'somebody's getting an ass-kicking.' "What's wrong with your daddy?"

Dean glared into the mirror again, trying to catch her eye. Rae stared back, clearly deliberating on whether or not to tell Bobby. When her eyes skittered away to look out the window again, Dean breathed with relief.

"Nothing's wrong, Bobby," he insisted, putting as much strength behind that statement as he could muster. After all, it was true.

"Really? Then what was all that about you being in the ER?" Bobby demanded. Damn, the man really could sound like Dad sometimes. It made Dean feel a touch homesick. Fortunately he was saved from any further avoidance or, even worse, reflection, by virtue of the fact they had arrived.

Dean leapt from the car like he had springs installed in his ass. "Let's go!"

"Dad," Rae whined as she climbed out, squeezing between the folded down seat and the door, "I don't like this guy. He's a jerk."

"You're not seeing him," Dean replied, eyes scanning the area for his beloved Impala, "you're seeing Susan this time."

Rae seemed to perk up a little at that. "Kevin's mom?"

Dean scowled. Right. He forgot that stupid little detail. "Yeah, Kevin's mom."

"Who is Kevin?" Bobby asked, walking up behind Rae to put a meaty hand on her shoulder. "And what does she need to see a doctor for?"

Rae glared at him as he lowered his eyes, wondering how to explain without telling everything. "Apparently I'm not allowed to say," she griped softly, causing Bobby's eyebrows to dart up behind the brim of his stained ballcap.

He growled to himself. "Let's go. We're running late." With a swift motion, he had both of his charges marching ahead. One last scan of the parking lot proved that Sam still had not arrived, and it was not like Sam to be late. Dean paused just inside the door to the professional building where the therapist offices were, watching the street. He felt those bands tighten around his chest, but he chose to ignore it until Sam gave him a damn good reason to panic. Like being an hour late. He fingered the outline of his cell in his pocket a moment before allowing the door to close.

Rae and Bobby waited just inside the door for him to lead the way. She knew the way, but the fact the kid would not go except in his wake showed how dependent she was on him. Dean had always liked the fact that Rae hated to do anything outside his presence. He had drawn comfort from that. She, at least, would never disappear on him again. With Sam he always felt like he was living on borrowed time, that his brother might choose tomorrow to move away, live a separate life. That thought about Rae had never occurred to him, until recently. To see her still showing signs of dependency made his breathing easier. Was that terrible? Selfish? Unhealthy?

Dean signed them in, letting the friendly but professional receptionist know his brother was running a few minutes late. She typed something into her computer terminal. It must have been a message to the doctors, because Susan Smith appeared in the doorway less than a minute later.

"Rae, Dean," she said, her face lighting up as though they were all old friends, one hand outstretched for him to shake, "how are you? And who is this?"

Bobby's eyes hardened on Dean as he shook her hand. "Bobby Singer, ma'am."

Dean watched her eyes travel to him as well, the question clear in them. "Bobby is, uh…" Oh great, how the hell should he describe their relationship with Bobby? "Rae's Grandfather."

Rae laughed at that, the sound in the presence of people outside their family surprising and making him start.

"Your father?" she asked, looking from Rae's laughing face to Dean's attempt at stern seriousness.

"No," Dean shook his head. "He's kind of…a stand in. I guess." He looked at Bobby, hoping his friend, possibly the best friend they had left, did not find any of his fumbling explanations offensive.

Bobby was hard to read, with his cap pulled low over his eyes and his too loose stance that belied the man's constant vigilance. After what felt like an endless moment, Bobby met his gaze with a slight nod, eyes misty. "Yes, ma'am, guess I am a stand in. Rather poor one at that, but I do try."

"Then you should come in, too," Susan said, standing out of the doorway, motioning them inside her office.

Her office was more girly than the other doctor's office, but it was pleasant enough. The couch in here was upholstered in neutral fabrics rather than leather and there were decorative rugs on the floor. A vase filled with fresh flowers was positioned on her desk, exactly one quarter of the distance from the right side. Dean noticed there were several open tissue boxes in strategic positions throughout the room. What a lousy job, listening to people literally cry all day long. Dean shook his head at that as he took a seat on the couch.

Rae sat between them, her small frame squeezed tightly between the two men. Dean patted her knee with reassurance and she gripped his hand. He held it, waiting for Susan to begin.

----------------------

Sam stood just outside the bookstore, holding Sarah's purchases. He spotted a couple of books he might like, but he needed to check their budget first. Dean had mentioned Dolan setting up an account, but he also knew how much his brother hated using that money, Rae's money. For the past seven years they had not touched it. Sam had been thinking lately that since they were in one spot for a while, it might be in Rae's best interests to spend a little of the money to make things a little more comfortable for all of them. He would like a modest house with a big screen television since they were not allowed to go to the movies any more, but that was undoubtedly a pipedream.

With a glance at his watch, Sam mentioned casually they should head back. They had been gone nearly an hour.

Sarah frowned and check her own watch. "Uh, Sam? It was an hour over half an hour ago."

Sam lifted his watch up again, now noticing the position of the hour hand. "Damn it! I'm late!" He grabbed her by the elbow, propelling her to the Impala. "We have to go!"

"We?" Sarah jumped in the passenger seat as Sam started the motor. "You can just drop me off at my car."

"No, no, no," Sam murmured, "this is so not good." He shook his head at her suggestion, pressing down on the accelerator as though by speeding he could turn back the hands on his watch. "No time! Oh, she is never going to forgive me," he moaned, not bothering to come to a full stop at the stop sign and plowing ahead into traffic.

"Your girlfriend?" Sarah asked. "The one you were at the restaurant with?"

Sam groaned, using the size of the car to force his way through traffic. "I told you, Karen and I are friends. Rae is never going to forgive me. I've already missed half her appointment." The light turned red just as they approached. Sam slammed on the brakes, pounding the steering wheel in his frustration.

"Sam?" Sarah's shaking hand found his arm, patting gently. "Surely she'll forgive you. It was an honest mistake."

He leaned back, shutting his eyes for a moment, willing the sweet voice to wash over him absolving him of his sin. No, it was not to be, he realized as his eyes opened, frantically searching for the light to be green. "You don't know Rae," he muttered. "She's a lot like Dean."

He saw Sarah shrug from the corner of his eye. "As I recall, your brother always seemed pretty forgiving and supportive."

Sam's eyes darted to her swiftly. She looked sincere. "Yeah, I guess he is," he finally admitted. "But Rae has been pretty touchy lately, mostly with me. I don't want to do anything that will set her off. And boy, will this set her off!"

"Mostly with you?" Sarah asked as the light finally, finally turned green. Sam resisted gunning the motor, knowing from experience it rarely made the cars in front of them in a hurry to get out of the way. "Why would she be touchy mostly with you?"

Sam swung the big black car into the parking lot, finding a space next to a big blue car. He paused before getting out, reminding himself to make sure Dean came out to see this car before they left. It looked like something his brother would like to check out.

"She's thirteen now," Sam explained, locking the door before slamming it shut, "and I guess teens are just touchy." He shrugged.

Sarah had to jog to keep up with him as he raced into the building. "But then she would be touchy with everyone, not just you. Why would she single you out?"

Sam paused, hand on the doorknob to the reception area. He turned her question over in his mind. "Dean has a theory about that." She waited, obviously expecting him to continue. "Maybe you can convince me to tell you after a couple more dates."

Sarah grinned, her eyes lighting with the challenge. "Oh, must be good then. You're on."


	21. Chapter 21

Okay, trying to get back on track here with the regular updates. Thanks to _**Brigid Tanner**_ for her help with this chapter. Oh, and a FYI – _**hotshow**_ and I are working on a non-amnesia sequel to Lil' Sammy. Thanks to everyone following this!

**Chapter 21**

Sam rushed up to the receptionist, explaining as quickly as he could that he was late for his niece's appointment. He barely noticed Sarah taking a seat as the receptionist led him to Susan's office. She rapped smartly on the door before ushering him inside. Once in, she shut the door behind him, leaving Sam with four pairs of eyes riveted to him.

"Uh, sorry I'm late. Did I miss everything?" Sam stood nervously in the doorway, wondering just how much he was going to be reamed out now. Oh, great, Bobby was here too? Perfect. And it had been such a nice day, too.

"Actually, we've covered Rae's nightmare last night," Susan motioned for him to sit in a chair, "and we just got to the visit from Family Services last night. You were there for that, right?"

"Uh, yeah," Sam sunk uncomfortably into the chair, Rae's eyes boring into him. He expected Dean to be upset as well, but his brother seemed kind of – relieved. Bobby was always hard to read, and at the moment it was just impossible.

"Rae?" Susan turned around to face his niece. "You said something the man from Family Services said confused you. What was that?"

Rae's brow furrowed under her soft brown bangs and her eyes narrowed, an expression Sam always found just damned cute. "Well," she started, glancing back to Dean for permission like she usually did. Dean put a hand on her back, resting it there as he nodded to her. Dean's expression showed his brother was just as curious as he was.

Rae took a deep breath before speaking again. "Well, it was confusing. He asked me if Dad or Uncle Sam ever hurt me twice, in two different ways, and then he wanted to know if they ever made me feel uncomfortable."

"So which part was confusing?" Susan asked.

"Why would he ask twice if they ever hurt me? I mean, wouldn't just asking once do it? Or did he think I was lying?" Rae leaned back into Dean's hand.

Susan frowned. "Rae, can you remember what exactly he asked? What those two questions were?"

Rae nodded. "Pretty much. First he said he needed to see if Dad or Uncle Sam ever hurt me or took care of me the wrong way. Whatever that's supposed to mean." Dean stifled a chuckle behind her, sobering when he caught the glare Sam shot his way. "And then he asked if they ever touched me the wrong way."

"He what?" Dean bolted upright, both hands holding Rae by the shoulders. "He asked you what?"

Rae looked back at Dean, clearly confused. "If you ever touched me the wrong way. But he already asked if you hurt me, so I didn't get why he had to ask it twice."

Dean looked right at him then, a silent conversation passing between them. Sam shook his head. Beating up the Family Services guy was definitely not a good idea. "Quick way to get them to take her," he pointed out.

Dean grimaced. "Like I'd let that happen."

"You promised," Sam pointed out, referring to Dean's promise not to have them disappear unless it was as a last resort.

Dean's jaw muscle twitched a few times before he replied, "Fine. But if he does it again…"

Sam nodded. They would have to keep a closer eye on that Family Services dude from now on. No more private conversations.

"Gentlemen?" Susan asked, waving a hand to get their attention. "What's going on?"

Dean shook his head. "She didn't understand the second question."

"Rae, do you know what it means for someone to touch you inappropriately?" Susan asked.

Rae nodded. "Like when someone hits you or grabs your butt."

Susan shook her head, lower lip tucked under her front teeth. "Not exactly."

"Sex," Dean blurted, so unexpected Susan actually jumped in her seat. "He was talking about sex."

"Sex? But Dad, he asked if you ever…" her voice trailed off as Dean nodded to her. "Oh, come on! That's…that's…"

"Wrong, sick, disgusting?" Sam suggested.

Rae looked at him gratefully this time. "Yeah! I mean, that'd be… Is there a word for that?"

"Yes." Susan blinked slowly, rotating her head to take them all in. "It's called incest." She cleared her throat. "Rae? You've really never heard of incest? Or child molestation?"

Rae shook her head. "People really do crap like that? They should be locked up. Or shot."

"Shot," Dean and Bobby replied in unison with Sam's automatic response.

Susan laughed. They all looked at her. "I'm sorry, but this," she waved a hand at them all, "was totally unexpected." She looked down at the notebook in her lap before meeting Dean's gaze. "You should get legal representation if you can, just to be on the safe side. I don't think it would be good for Rae to be separated from her family even for a couple of days, though it would not surprise me if Family Services suggests doing just that."

"But why?" Rae demanded. "Nobody hurts me. I'm happy with Dad and Uncle Sam, even if he did show up late." Sam winced. He had that one coming. "Why would they do that?"

"Rae," Susan's voice took on the same serious tone as when they discussed the confusing question, "I've spoken with Kevin about you. You appear very differently in school than you do here. In school, you show all the symptoms of an individual who has suffered a great trauma. Kids who are currently being mistreated, in any of the ways we just discussed, can also display those same symptoms."

"But… I didn't know…" Rae looked around the room frantically, her gaze finally resting on Dean. "Dad, I'm sorry. I'll try, really hard. Honest."

"Hey, hey," Dean pulled her into an embrace, "it's all right. You've been doing great." He glared at Susan, made a quick gesture toward Rae with his hand.

"Rae," Susan said softly moving to kneel by her, "you've done nothing wrong."

Rae looked up with a tear-streaked face. That sight was far too common lately. Maybe they were better off on the road. Sam would have to rethink Dean's suggestion to disappear.

"But I'm the reason that man is investigating. It's because of me!" She did not look away this time but fresh tears fell, rolling down her round cheeks.

"Which is not your fault," Susan insisted. "According to your dad, you suffered a huge trauma, so it's only natural that you would act like it."

"I was six!" Rae shouted. "I should be over it by now!"

"Why?" Dean asked softly from her side. She turned to look at him. "I was four when my mom died. I don't think I'll ever get over it."

Sam stared after his brother's confession. He had heard Dean make allusions to the fact he never got over it, seen with his own eyes the weight his brother carried because of it, but he never heard Dean come right out and say it before. Wow. They should have tried this therapy stuff years ago.

Rae leaned into Dean, letting him comfort her. Sam ached to be on her other side, rubbing her back, but Bobby was seated there. Suddenly Bobby stood up, motioned for Sam to take his seat on the couch. Confused, Sam stared up at him before moving.

"Go on," Bobby said softly, tilting his head toward the couch, "looks like a family thing to me."

Sam tried not to rush over, not to look like he was in a hurry to join in, but he felt immediate relief when he sank onto the couch and could put a hand on Rae's back. She did not acknowledge him, but she did not pull away either. Sam took that as permission, continuing to rub her back while Dean held her. After a few minutes she wiped her face on Dean's shirt, sat up. Sam took his hand away, but she grabbed it and held it the same way she clutched Dean with her other hand.

"I guess your brother is right, then?" Susan asked softly, arching an eyebrow at him.

"About what?" Sam asked, massaging the back of Rae's hand lightly with his fingers.

"You are the mom."

Sam dropped his head as Rae giggled and Dean snorted with laughter. Susan was definitely good. He was punished for arriving so late and the tense mood was broken.

"Okay, looks like our time is up for the day. Next time, if you feel up to it Rae, I'd like to talk about how your parents died." She looked at them, silently asking for permission even though she just voiced her request.

"It's not like we've kept it a secret," Dean said evenly, standing up and hauling Rae with him. "The one who doesn't like to talk to people wrote a paper about it in English class. We can bring it next time."

Susan's face split in a broad smile. "You wrote a paper about it? That's really wonderful, Rae. I'd love to read it." The smile disappeared for a moment. "Oh, Dean, I almost forgot. Doctor Stuart said he needed to reschedule your next appointment, unless you've been experiencing more severe panic attacks?"

Dean cleared his throat, cheeks flushing pink. "That's fine. No problem. Have him call me."

Sam chuckled as they left the office. He guessed Bobby was not supposed to know about that.

"Sam? All done?" Sarah tossed aside a tattered golfing magazine to join them.

Rae turned accusing eyes on him. "You had a date? You were late because of a date?"

"It wasn't a date," Sam insisted. "She, uh, we were just book shopping."

Rae's eyes narrowed. "Riiiiight."

Damn. She was so much like Dean! "I'm sorry, I just lost track of time. I promise it won't happen again."

He noticed Dean nudge her. "Fine," she sighed. "Won't happen again?"

"I promise," Sam repeated, holding his arms out for the hug he did not get earlier. She fell into them, hugging him back.

"Hi, Dean," Sarah said, standing beside him. "Nice to see you again."

Dean grinned like he was hustling. "Really nice to see you, Sarah."

"So this must be Rae?" Sarah leaned down a little to talk to her. "I've heard an awful lot about you. It's nice to finally meet you."

Rae looked at him with hard eyes. "I take it this is Smokin' Sarah?"

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. "This is Sarah."

She looked up at Dean, rolling her eyes. "Does he still get the car?"

Dean grinned. "Oh, I guess so." His brother pulled out a set of car keys, dangled them in his face. "Want to see your new ride?"

Stunned, Sam took the keys. "New ride? But, I thought we were going to have to drop a rebuilt engine in the clunker?"

Dean scowled. "If Dolan is going to keep pushing the damn money on me, I might as well spend a little of it to make life easier on us." He pulled out his wallet and handed over what looked like a credit card in the name of Dean Cooper. "I think you should take Rae shopping for some new clothes, too. Maybe some stuff to girly up her room a bit."

"Dean?" Sam held the card. "You got a credit card?"

"Not exactly," Dean said, frowning. "We can talk about it later."

Sam understood that. It meant he did not want to discuss it in front of Rae. Fine. He headed outside, wondering what hunk of junk Dean stuck him with this time.

"Hey, Dean. I spotted something on my way in you'll want to see, if it's still here." Sam led them over to the blue car beside the Impala. "What do you think?"

Dean grinned like it was Christmas morning and Rae liked his gift best of all. "I think," Dean pointed to the keys dangling from Sam's hand, "you and Sarah should take it for a spin."


	22. Chapter 22

Thanks to everyone sticking with this story and everyone who leaves a review. Really appreciate it!! And a big thanks to **_Brigid Tanner_** for giving me a swift kick you-know-where when I lag behind with the updates!!

**Chapter 22**

Sam must have stood staring at Dean in shock for several minutes before Bobby took the keys to retrieve his bag. He slapped the keys back into Sam's palm. "Go on," he urged, giving Sam a shove to the driver's door, "it's about time you had something decent to drive."

"Nice," Sarah said, slipping into the passenger seat. Bobby could definitely see what Sam saw in her. Smokin' indeed!

"Hey!" Dean rushed over with a plastic bag bulging with books from the Impala's front seat. "Don't forget these."

"Yeah, thanks Dean." Sam took the bag through the open window. He whispered something to Dean that Bobby could not hear, then fired up the motor and backed out carefully.

Dean shook his head as Sam drove off. "It's too much car for him, isn't it?"

Bobby chuckled. "Jeez, Dean, you act like he's never driven your car."

Dean rolled his eyes as he brushed by. "C'mon, Sunshine. Time to go home."

"Finally!" Rae hopped into the backseat. "Are we having anything special for dinner since Gramps is visiting?"

Bobby shook his finger at her over the seat. "Don't even think it."

Rae's laugh bounced around the car, bringing a smile to both his and Dean's faces. "You either," Bobby shot at Dean, causing a wider grin.

"Oh, come on, Bobby," Dean glanced at him as the big car backed out of the parking spot, "you make a pretty good Gramps."

Bobby crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm just a stand-in."

Dean sighed. "You know I didn't mean… That you're…" Dean drew in a deep breath, one hand pressing against his ribs.

"Dad?" Rae's arm shot over the seat, grabbing Dean's shoulder.

Bobby reached out to put a hand on Dean's arm. "Dean, you all right? Can you breathe?"

Dean nodded, shaking off his hand. Bobby noticed that Dean did not try to shake off Rae. They drove in silence for a few blocks while Bobby listened to the young man's breathing. It settled into an even rhythm after a couple of lights.

"Coney-dogs," Dean said after regaining control of his breathing. "How's that sound?"

"Fine, Dad," Rae replied in an uneven voice.

"You know I'm easy," Bobby said, a worried eye still pinned to Dean's face. "So tell me about these panic attacks."

Dean's head gave a small shake. "It's nothing, Bobby. Don't worry about it."

"Rae?" Bobby asked while still watching her dad. "What were you saying about him winding up in the ER?"

"I-I guess really bad panic attacks look like a heart attack," she whispered, as though saying it louder might make it worse.

Bobby felt his own heart rate pick up. "Dean," he growled.

"Bobby, really, it's no big deal." Dean shot him a strong look as he tilted his head subtly toward Rae.

"Fine," Bobby snapped, fully intending to bring this up later when Rae was out of earshot. Of course, finding a moment when Rae was not in earshot would be almost as big of a challenge as getting Dean to open up. He should have been suspicious when they did not call, he should have called. Bobby had no idea these boys could have gotten themselves into so much trouble just putting Rae in school. He should have known better. They were Winchesters, after all.

The rest of the drive to the apartment was in tense silence. Rae did not turn Dean loose until they were parked. Even then she jumped out of the car and waited for Dean so she could grab his hand. Bobby grabbed his bag before following. There was a man standing in the sidewalk, thin and dressed in a cheap gray suit with worn, scuffed black shoes.

"Good evening, Mister Cooper," the man greeted them. Bobby noticed Rae dropping back, hiding behind Dean.

"Marty," Dean replied, his voice cold.

"Uh, it's Martin," the man corrected. Bobby doubted Dean would acknowledge it.

Dean walked past to open the door just behind Martin. Rae dashed inside as Dean held the door open. Martin went in next. Bobby gave Dean a questioning look but the younger man just rolled his eyes. As Bobby drew near, Dean whispered, "Family Services."

Bobby nodded. Inside, he asked, "Where do I put this, Dean?"

"First door on the right," Dean pointed to a short hall at the other end of the main room. Bobby followed the instructions. In that room were two single beds. Bobby dropped his bag on the bed closest to the door, wondering what the sleeping arrangements would be.

"I understand there was a disturbance last night, Mister Cooper?" The Martin guy asked Dean. The walls in these apartments must be like paper for Bobby to hear so clearly back here. Bobby headed back to the main room where Dean glared at the thin man.

"Really? What did you hear?"

Martin cleared his throat. "There were several 9-1-1 calls about screaming. Some of the residents believed someone was being murdered here. What do you know about that?"

"About a murder?" Dean shook his head. "Nothing."

"The screaming, Mister Cooper." Martin took out a notebook and pen.

Dean shrugged. "Rae had a nightmare last night. That was the only screaming I heard."

Bobby stood behind the Family Services worker. Those people had lousy jobs: high stress and low pay. Having to investigate Dean would undoubtedly up the stress level.

"She screams loud enough to wake the neighbors?" Martin's tone of voice indicated that this was highly questionable.

"Not usually. But then, she usually hasn't been interrogated by some asshole from Family Services either!" Dean barked, moving to stand right in Martin's face. Dean's cheeks were flush with anger, a look Bobby recognized only too well.

Bobby stepped around the smaller man to grab Dean by the elbow. "Dean," he said gently, pulling back on the elbow, "easy."

When Dean's head snapped to the side to look at him, Bobby noticed the younger man instantly relax some. Since when had he had that kind of effect on Dean? Dean took a step back, shaking out his shoulders. "You should leave," Dean informed Martin. "I won't have you upsetting Rae like that again."

Martin pretended not to hear that comment. "I also understand you escorted your daughter and another girl to the school library for a research project today. Why did you do that, Mister Cooper?"

The look that came over Dean's face Bobby knew too well. Martin could soon become the proud owner of a broken nose, or jaw, or both. Bobby pulled Dean back again, trying to position himself between the two men. He heard the door open again.

"Now what did I miss?" Sam's voice cut through the tension as the door slammed closed. Bobby had been honestly surprised that Dean allowed him to interfere this long, thank god Sam was here now. As he relaxed his hold, he felt Dean pull away, moving toward Martin again. Bobby tightened his grip. The last thing these boys needed was to beat up the investigator from Family Services.

"Dean," Sam loomed just behind Martin, "don't." Sam's shaggy hair bounced as he looked swiftly through the apartment. "Where's Rae?"

"Hiding," Dean said, glaring at Martin, "from him."

"Go check on her. I'll take care of this." Sam moved forward, pushing Dean away from Martin and toward the back of the apartment. Bobby let go, relieved Dean was following his brother's advice. He watched Dean's retreating back until the other bedroom door slammed behind it.

"I take it you're here about Rae screaming loud enough to wake the neighbors last night?" Sam asked, moving to take his brother's earlier position.

"Yes, I am. I would prefer to speak with the father." Martin said calmly. Bobby figured the guy had no idea how close he just came to needing an ER visit.

"Tough," Sam snapped. "Aren't you people supposed to call first, anyway? Make appointments? We've been cooperating."

Martin's face took on a pinched expression. "Well, yes, technically you have."

"Did Dolan send you that information?" Sam asked, arms crossing over his broad chest. Bobby took a step back, unsure what his role here should be.

Martin nodded. "He did. I spoke with him this morning, as a matter of fact. Mister Dolan informed me that Rae was born Clementine McDermott, sole heir to the McDermott estate."

"So?" Sam's pose did not change, but his eyes narrowed. Bobby knew that look too, just not as well as he did Dean's. Sam was angry. While he doubted Sam would send the guy off in an ambulance, Bobby was glad to be on their side in all this.

"So, with all that money at your disposal, why isn't Rae in private school? Why don't you live at the estate, or in your own house?" Martin's eyes searched Sam's unyielding face. "Why are you here?"

"My brother did not adopt her for her money," Sam replied softly, but Bobby could hear the anger lacing his words. "We are trying to take care of her in the best way we can. For a long time all people scared her, so we homeschooled. She's getting better about that, so we decided to give public school a try. And so far, I'd have to say we're getting some very mixed results."

"But if her parents were killed by a bear," Martin argued, "why would she be so scared of people? Something else must have happened to her, too."

"There was the kidnapping," Bobby said. They both turned to stare at him.

"What kidnapping?" Martin asked, scribbling on his notepad.

"It was what? Six months after she started living with you two?" Bobby asked Sam.

Sam shrugged. "I really don't remember much about it."

Martin glared at him. "How could you forget a kidnapping?"

"He was in the hospital getting brain surgery at the time!" Bobby snapped, stepping between the two men, facing down Martin. "Son, you have no idea what you're dealing with here. I've never see two men more devoted to a youngster than these two. And I doubt you're a psychologist, so you are in no position to determine if that child should or should not be scared of people. They didn't question it," Bobby pointed to Sam as he advanced on Martin, forcing the man to back up, "they just dealt with it. Hell, it took me taking care of her for the better part of a week while they were both laid up before she'd say one word to me."

They were at the door now. Bobby opened it, inviting Martin to leave.

"And you are?" Martin asked as he stepped outside, far less authority in his voice than when he arrived.

"Her grandfather," Bobby snapped, slamming the door behind the little man. He stood fuming at the door until Sam's chuckle drew him back.

"Her grandfather, Bobby?" He turned to see Sam smiling at him.

"Don't give me that," Bobby warned. "Besides, Dean started it. And you!" Bobby advanced on the younger brother. "Dean had a panic attack that put him in the ER and I have to hear about it from Rae?"

Sam's mouth flopped open and closed a few times, no sound coming out.

"Relax, Bobby," Dean's voice invaded the room. "He's been just as stressed out as we have."

Bobby turned around. Dean and Rae came into the room. Dean was all smiles while Rae scowled. "Is he really gone?" she asked, causing Dean to reach out and squeeze her shoulder.

"For now," Sam said.

"And your girlfriend?" Rae's face was the equivalent of biting unexpectedly into a particularly potent lemon.

Sam sighed. "Rae, I think you and I need to go for a little drive. Come on." He held out a hand.

Rae stepped back, closer to Dean. Bobby watched as the boys exchanged a look, a conversation carried in subtle facial expressions. Dean shoved Rae toward the door. "Go on. I'm not putting up with you two going at it again. The Coneys should be ready by the time you get back."

Bobby noticed the worry line between Dean's eyes as Sam and Rae left. He waited for Dean to turn around, shrug. "Beer?"

"Sure." Bobby followed the few steps to the kitchen, taking a seat on a stool by the island counter as Dean went to the fridge. Bobby opened and started drinking the beer Dean handed him while watching the younger man lay out the ingredients for dinner. "Those are my favorite."

"Yeah, I figured," Dean replied, not looking at him. He set a small pot of water to boil on the stove to cook the hot dogs. With his back to Bobby, fiddling with the burner, Dean said, "That was nice. The way you handled Marty."

"Moron wouldn't know a good home if it landed on him," Bobby said, taking a long pull on his beer. "Besides, that's what stand-ins are for."

Dean's head dipped down. Now what? He heard the instant change in Dean's breathing, realized he was triggering another of those attack things. Now how did he do that? The stand-in comment?

"Really appreciate that, by the way. Even if you didn't mean it." Bobby said, placing his beer carefully on the counter.

Dean looked back over his shoulder, eyebrows up in question, face flushed. "Appreciate what?" He sounded a bit breathless, like he had just been working out.

Bobby shrugged. "Calling me Rae's Grandfather. And a stand-in for your daddy." Bobby dropped his eyes to watch the condensation on his beer drip slowly down its surface. "Made me feel like part of the family."

When he looked up again, Dean faced him, leaning toward him from the other side of the counter. "You are." Dean took a deep breath before continuing. "I was afraid I offended you with the stand-in comment."

Bobby chuckled. "Damn, Dean. You know it takes a lot to offend me." Bobby shrugged. "Besides, I took it as a compliment."

He was rewarded by that wide, shit-eating grin. "Good to know. Gramps."

"Oh, god," Bobby shoved his ballcap up, "what have I done now?"


	23. Chapter 23

**Note**: A conventional oven is mentioned in this chapter. I am referring to a non-microwave, normal-type oven that is small enough to sit on your kitchen counter. I have one that I like to use the same way Dean will here.

Thanks again to everyone reading this and those of you kind enough to leave reviews. As always, all reviews are welcome: good/bad/indifferent. I am always looking for ways to improve my writing. Thanks to _**Brigid Tanner**_ for proofing this and catching my lazy mistakes!!

**Chapter 23**

Sam wanted to rest a hand on Rae's shoulder, but she kept her distance the whole way to the car. His car. Wow. Sam actually had his own car and it wasn't a hunk of junk about two fill-ups away from being a candidate for Bobby's place. He wondered if Dean would help him out with oil changes and all that maintenance stuff. Sam already had plenty of experience with washing, waxing and detailing. No worries there.

He held the passenger door open for his niece, the pod-person. Neither of them spoke until he had the car in drive and pulled out of the parking lot.

"So, what's going on, Rae?" Sam asked. They were having this conversation, regardless if either of them wanted it.

He glanced over to see her staring out the passenger window. "Rae?"

She made an odd noise, like a cross between a grunt and a whine. "Nothin'."

"That's a lot of nothing." Sam headed for the public park. It wasn't too far. "What's your problem with Sarah?"

He heard that sound again. Sam held in his own sigh of frustration, turning into the winding road that led through the park. He eyed the spot he wanted. There were just a couple of parking spaces there, in the curve of the road. The location was surrounded by a small grove of trees, affording them some privacy. Sam parked, shutting off the engine and turning in his seat to watch Rae.

"We're not leaving until you tell me what's bothering you," Sam informed her, resting back against the seat.

"Supper will get cold," Rae said, voice flat.

"Tough." Sam stared at her, as though he could will the stubborn teen to look at him. "What's wrong with Sarah?"

Rae shrugged. "No idea. I'm sure there's something."

Sam bit back another sigh. He was getting nowhere fast. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Rae shrugged again, refusing to look at him. "Barely met the woman."

"Well," Sam said, thinking out loud, "maybe she could go shopping with us. She has pretty good tastes in clothes."

"And I don't?" Rae demanded, not just looking but glaring at him now. "So what makes her so much better than me?"

Sam frowned. He hated navigating uncharted territory like this alone. It was always easier with Dean. "I don't think she's better than you, Rae. Where did you get that idea?"

Her eyes flashed away, staring out at the trees again. "You like her better," she mumbled.

The comment was a kick in the gut. Sam closed his eyes to steady himself, steady his breathing. Really, it was a wonder they weren't both having panic attacks. "You think I like her better because I was late?"

Her silence spoke more than anything she might have said. Sam drummed his fingers along the steering wheel, a habit of Dean's. "That was really…thoughtless of me." He turned to look at her again. "You're probably the last person I'd ever want to hurt like that."

Rae's head snapped to the side, shock written all over her face. "R-really?" The tears were in her voice and he could see them starting to well in her eyes. "Then…why?"

Sam held out his right arm, tugging her over. Sarah mentioned that it was a shame the car didn't have bucket seats, but at the moment Sam was grateful this car just had a plain-jane bench seat. Rae leaned into his side, snuggling close. That was more like it. "I guess I wasn't thinking," he admitted. "I know I wasn't paying attention to the time, and I should have been." He reached over with his free arm, to hug her with it, too. "I really am sorry. I promise it won't happen again."

"You won't see Sarah anymore?" Rae's muffled question was so not the response he expected.

Sam pulled her back so he could see her face. "I didn't say that," he replied, wiping her cheeks with his hands. "But I'll never treat you like you're second-best. I can promise that."

She frowned at him. "But why do you want to see her again? Dad never does that."

Okay, should he really try to explain Dean? How could he, when he didn't really understand his brother that well himself. "Well," Sam pulled her in close again, stalling for a little time, "your Dad and I are just different, I guess. I kind of like the idea of maybe getting married someday. I don't think it's ever occurred to Dean."

Her arms clung tighter. "That means you'll leave us."

"Nope," Sam rested his cheek against the top of her head. "Never happen."

"I think living in one place might be a bad idea," Rae mumbled.

"Why's that?" Sam cuddled her against him, the way he did when she was little.

"Because it makes me cry too much," she said into his shirt. "I don't remember ever crying this much before."

Sam grinned into her hair. "Then I guess you don't remember much about that first year, do you? Screaming every night, crying at the drop of a hat."

"Must have been miserable," Rae muttered softly.

"You were," Sam said, wondering when they lost this closeness. He did not realize it was gone until now, holding her tight. "But I think picking such a goofy guy for a dad must have been so he could cheer you up." He heard her chuckle. "That's the real reason you picked him, right?" He nudged her. "That whole making you feel safe thing was a cover, wasn't it?"

She giggled, trying to shove away. He trapped her in his arms as she squirmed in his grip. "Wasn't it?" He dug into her ribs, causing her to squeal and try to wrench herself from him. "C'mon, give!" He laughed, tickling her mercilessly.

"No, no!" Rae screamed, twisting and turning, but Sam was not going to let go, not yet. He stopping tickling, pulling her back against him.

She held his arm across her stomach, breathing heavy. An occasional chuckle escaped her. "Dad is pretty goofy sometimes, huh?"

"Now you're being nice," Sam replied, chuckling with her. "I missed this," he heard himself admit.

"Me, too." There was silence in the car for a while. Sam sat there holding his niece, enjoying the closeness.

Sam held his watch up so they both could see it. "So how long do you think we have before your dad tracks us down and drags us back by our hair?"

Rae giggled. "He usually gives us an hour before he starts calling."

"That means we have half an hour to ourselves," Sam said, resting his cheek against her head again. "So now what do we talk about?"

"How about you explain how if you get married, some day, way in the future, you won't leave us? How will that work?"

Sam grinned out the window, seriously tempted to tickle her again. Damn, she was an awful lot like Dean.

-------------------

"So, what's going on with these panic attacks, Dean?" Bobby tossed his second empty beer bottle in the trash.

"I told you, Bobby, it's nothing." Dean insisted, putting the canned chili on to heat.

"Going to the ER isn't nothing, Dean," Bobby insisted. "And if you expect me to continue being your daddy's stand-in, you're going to tell me." Bobby crossed both arms over his chest, glaring. He knew exactly how stubborn Dean could be, so he figured he wouldn't waste time. Just use the big guns from the get-go.

Dean shrugged, studying the counter. "Won't happen again."

"How do you know that?" Bobby asked in the same stern voice as before. He was not sure he was buying it.

Dean pulled a pill bottle out of his pocket. "They make me feel loopy, but it's better than a full-blown attack." Dean did look at him then. "I'm not doing that again."

Bobby nodded. "What brought these on? When did they start?" He was still having trouble putting 'Dean' and 'panic' in the same sentence. The closest he had ever seen Dean to actually panicking was that time Rae was kidnapped and Sam started having seizures. If that was not enough, what in the world could make that happen to Dean now?

Taking a small tray out of a countertop conventional oven, Dean covered it in foil. His eyes darted to the door briefly before settling on Bobby. "A couple of months before we moved in."

"Really? What happened?" Bobby leaned forward, watching Dean carefully lay out the hotdogs in buns on the tray.

"We were in this pizza place, eating lunch. I got up to hit the john. On my way back, I noticed this kid behind the counter, who freaking worked there, mind you, staring across the place with this glazed look. You know the one I mean." Dean mimicked a love-struck teen, causing Bobby to chuckle.

"And?" Bobby prompted.

"Well, I was curious. So I asked him who the hot chick was." Dean sighed, checking on the chili.

"And?" Bobby asked again, already guessing who the hot chick must have been.

Dean threw the chili spoon savagely into the sink. "The little shit pointed out Rae! Rae!" He glared at Bobby. "That kid had to be at least sixteen, Bobby."

Bobby noticed Dean's breathing growing heavier. "What did you say?"

The grin that came over Dean's face was frightening. "I told him if he came within twenty feet of my daughter, he'd be singing soprano for the rest of his life." The grin dropped and Dean sighed. "Then I went outside until I could breathe again." His eyes rolled dramatically.

"I take it you didn't tell Sam about any of this?" Bobby asked.

"I tried," Dean shrugged, "but Sam wasn't really in a listening mood that day. Just kept talking about which town we could pick. He had the list narrowed down to a hundred."

Bobby found himself blinking hard over that. "A hundred. You're kidding, right?"

Dean shook his head. "I finally made him stick the names on a dartboard and had Rae throw the darts. The three names she hit we looked at, then Sam picked the town of out those."

"Sam picked?" Bobby straightened up a bit. "You didn't have any say in it."

Dean shrugged. "One town is pretty much like another. Didn't matter."

Bobby frowned. He was getting a clearer picture of what was going on around here. "What set off the one that put you in the ER?"

Dean groaned. "It's stupid, Bobby. Let's talk about something else. Any good hunts lately?"

That hopeful expression was almost enough to make Bobby cave. Almost. "Dean. ER."

Both hands ran over that spiky, short hair. "One of the guys from work has a teenage daughter. Sixteen." He gripped the counter. "Her boyfriend is twenty-two."

"Uh-oh," Bobby moaned, shaking his head. He knew where this was going.

"Yep," Dean nodded. "And the guy I work with was going on and on about her being pregnant and how worried he was she might not be able to finish high school." His eyes squeezed shut and Bobby noticed that Dean was controlling his breathing. "Next thing I knew," Dean's eyes cracked open, "I was on the floor and I couldn't breathe. I don't know if Sam ever mentioned it, but I had a heart attack once."

Bobby shook his head. This was news to him.

"That panic attack was worse." Dean actually met his eyes. "When I was electrocuted, I got to pass out. I was awake for the whole damn thing this time." He shook his head. "Not doing that again."

"I'm sure Sam and Rae don't want you to either." Bobby replied softly.

A sad half-chuckle came from Dean. "No. I guess the heart attack still bothers Sam. I didn't know that before." He shrugged again, checking his watch. "They have fifteen minutes."

"Until what?" Bobby asked.

Dean grinned, eyes lighting up. "Until I hunt them down."

Bobby laughed. "Good to see normal living hasn't changed you much, Dean."

"Who, me?" Dean feigned shock. "Change?"

--------------

One hour on the dot. Rae shut the passenger door, looking at Uncle Sam. "Should we wait here until your phone goes off?" she asked, smirking.

Uncle Sam rolled his eyes at her. "Let's not stress Dean out any more today, all right? Hey, any homework?"

Rae shook her head. "Finished it at school," she said, following along behind him.

As they walked along the path to the apartment, all the hair on the back of Rae's neck stiffened. She felt like they were being watched. Cautiously, without breaking stride, she looked around. Nothing appeared out of place.

"Uncle Sam," she whispered, quickening her pace to catch his hand, "something feels wrong."

Uncle Sam slowed down. She saw him evaluate their surroundings. Rae trusted his instincts more than her own. Then she noticed a man who did not look familiar watching them. Using a technique that had served her well in the past, Rae pulled on her uncle's hand to guide his attention to the stranger.

A frown creased Uncle Sam's face at the sight of the man. The stranger did not even bother looking away; making it obvious they were being watched.

"Don't worry about it," Uncle Sam said gruffly, hustling her along to the door. "Probably just a new tenant."

Rae doubted her uncle thought that, especially when he paused just before opening the door to say, "But let's not mention it to Dean, okay? I'm sure it's nothing." She stared at him. If it really was nothing, then what was the harm? As though reading her thoughts, Uncle Sam continued with, "I just don't want to worry him over nothing. Let's see about getting him well first."

She grabbed the hand reaching for the doorknob. "Dad's not well?"

Uncle Sam looked irritated, but a smile erased it. "I was talking about the panic attacks. He's not sick." The last sentence was said with so much force, Rae wondered if it was for her benefit or his. Then he pushed open the door, standing aside so she could go in first.

"About time!" Dad sounded pleased, not angry. "I'm ready to put the Coneys in." Dad and Bobby were in the kitchen, drinking beer. That figured. She was out being grilled in the park until she cried, and they were living it up here. Trying not to look irritated, Rae perched next to Bobby at the kitchen counter.

"Anything new with you, Gramps?" Rae asked, grinning because she just could not help it.

"If I were a grandfather, I don't think I'd like to be called Gramps," Bobby replied evenly, but Rae could see that sparkle in his eyes. She suspected he liked it, especially since he claimed he didn't. "And I might have a little something for you. Wait here."

Rae grinned at Dad, who was just closing the glass door on the conventional oven. He grinned back, winking. Yep, Bobby must like it. It didn't take Bobby long to get whatever it was. Rae hoped it was not another stuffed animal that 'happened' to catch his eye. Bobby thrust the plastic bag at her.

Curious, Rae reached inside. No fur, thank god. She pulled out a shirt. Okay, she could live with a shirt. It was pink camouflage, which made her giggle. She unfolded it to reveal the words, 'Cupid has arrows, but Daddy packs a .45'. Even Uncle Sam laughed!


	24. Chapter 24

Well, I decided that I was tired of the emo-stuff. Let's get some action going! Thanks to _**Brigid Tanner **_for proofing this.

**Chapter 24**

John watched the tall man, the one he saw Sarah having dinner with the other night and in the book store with today, guide the girl inside the apartment. They looked nothing alike, but with the way the tall guy acted he figured they must be related. John walked around, memorizing the location of the apartment. If this guy thought he could take Sarah away, then John had to do something about that.

He already took a picture of the car and wrote down the plates. Now John just needed to decide the best way to get to the man who thought Sarah was available. Sarah was his. She always would be. The best way to prove his point would be to take something of the intruder's, something personal and precious, like Sarah.

As he headed back to his car to contemplate his message, he heard a door slam and running footsteps. He looked back to see the tall man running up to him. John stopped. He was not the one who needed to be afraid.

"Excuse me!" The tall man slowed as he approached. John watched confidently, knowing this man was not a threat. "You live around here? Just move in?"

John smiled, facing him. "No. But now I know where you live."

The tall man frowned, stepping closer. John refused to step away. "Do I know you? Are you following me?"

John's smile broadened. "Ask Sarah." He spun on his heel to march away. The man did not follow. By dark John would know the man's name and where he worked. It would be simple.

From his car, on the road, John called an old friend who used to be a cop. His friend worked as a private investigator now and still had a number of contacts on the force. An hour later his friend called back. The tall man was either Sam or Dean Cooper. Sam worked at the local branch of the public library and Dean was a mechanic at a nearby garage. The girl was the daughter of one of them.

John thanked his friend, hanging up. Now he needed to find out if the tall guy was Sam or Dean, and decide exactly how he would hurt him.

------------------

Kevin watched the door to his English class intently. She should be here today. He hoped. Any time now. The paper that was due today sat on his desk, ready to turn in, but he wanted to wait until she arrived first.

His breath caught when she walked in. Shoulder length soft brown hair, not too straight or too curly, deep brown eyes that sparkled when she talked, even though that did not happen nearly often enough, and she was just so different, very different, from all the other girls.

"Hey, Rae!" He waved as she walked to her seat.

She shot him a quick smile, making his heart speed up. "Hey, Kevin."

He spun around in his chair to face her. "You finish the homework assignment?"

She nodded, pulling out her English folder. It always amazed him how organized Rae was, having a separate folder for every subject. He supposed that was the influence of her uncle. Her dad certainly didn't seem the type to be worried about keeping papers organized. Rae slapped the neatly written paper on her desk, scowling.

"Something wrong?" Kevin asked, hoping it was not time for the bell to ring just yet.

"It's a trap," Rae snapped, tapping a finger on her paper.

"The paper?" Most of their conversations were confusing, he was getting used to it. Actually, Kevin was starting to enjoy it. Rae nodded, not offering any more. "How is the paper a trap?"

She sighed, leaned closer to talk to him. Kevin leaned closer too. Her hair smelled like wildflowers. "The assignment was to compare our primary caretaker, whether it's your mom, dad, grandparent, whatever, with the mom from the story." Rae nodded to the front of the room. "She's trying to get me to say something bad about my dad."

That dark look in her eyes was strange, Kevin had not witnessed it before. He knew Rae just started seeing his mom as a patient, but Mom refused to discuss it. As usual. Sometimes he really hated that patient-doctor rule.

"Like what?" he whispered. Kevin still remembered how hard her dad shook his hand when they met and the way the man scowled at him in the library. Rae had a really protective dad. He was starting to suspect it might go the other way, too.

"I don't know," she whispered back, "but the bitch got Family Services investigating us, so I'm sure she's up to something."

"Kevin, Sammie," Miss Grimmault's terse voice cut through all the before class chatting, "the bell has rung. Does everyone have their papers ready? Pass them forward, please."

Kevin nearly jumped when Rae's hand touched his as she passed her paper forward. He handed their papers up, tossing her a backward grin. She rolled her eyes at him.

After class, Kevin walked with Rae to history. This was the best part of the day for him, the time he got to spend with her without that Amy around, which was about to be ruined. Sure enough, they had just enough time to sit down and for Kevin to ask how her evening was when Amy blew in like a nasty stormcloud.

"Rae! You are never going to believe what happened to me last night!" Amy said breathlessly as she slammed her books down on her desk.

Rae's face lit up at Amy, making Kevin feel just a touch jealous. He was pretty sure she never looked at him like that, but he could hope. "What?"

Kevin suppressed a growl as Amy went on. "My dad called. He invited me to go to a concert with him and I asked if you could go! It's next weekend. So? Will you ask?"

Rae's face fell. "I'm still grounded."

"For how long?" Amy demanded. "You don't mean your dad grounded you for two whole weeks?"

Rae shook her head. "A month."

Kevin was pretty sure his eyes were as big as Amy's. "You're grounded for a month? What the hell did you do?"

Rae turned to answer him. "I disobeyed an order."

"An order?" Kevin wondered what that was all about. "What do you mean?"

Rae sighed. "When my dad wants to make sure I do something, or don't do something, he makes it an order. You don't disobey orders."

"Like he did at the movie theater?" Kevin said, finally understanding what that order thing was all about.

"Yep." Rae slumped into her seat. "Where's Mister Steinway?"

"Oh, great," Amy grumbled. "A sub. Today's going to be a waste of time."

But before the sub could even say why she was there, one of the kids who worked in the office showed up with a note. The sub took it. "Sammie Cooper?"

Kevin glanced over at Rae. She raised a hand.

"You are to report to the office immediately," the sub held the note out to her. Kevin watched as Rae took the note and left, feeling just a little queasy about it.

Kevin motioned for Amy to lean closer. Amy looked confused, but she did it. "What?" she hissed, looking distinctly displeased.

"You don't think this is about Family Services, do you?" he asked, worried.

Amy shrugged. "I hope not." Her eyes fixed on the door. Kevin had a feeling neither of them would relax until Rae came back.

------------------

Rae clutched the note asking her to report to the front office in one sweaty hand. Now what? She hoped it was Bobby showing up to surprise her with lunch or something, but lunch wasn't for another couple of hours. A pit formed deep in her stomach the closer she came to the office. Whatever it was, Rae was convinced it was not going to be good.

She was directed into her principal's office where a burly man in a bad suit sat in a chair. He smiled at her when she came in. Rae ignored him, handing her note over to the principal.

"Sammie, this is Mister James from Family Services," her principal informed her. Rae frowned. Wasn't that Marty's last name? How many members of his family were in Family Services? Now that was just sick. Rae stared at the principal, waiting for him to tell her what this was all about. He sighed when she said nothing. "You need to go with him."

Rae felt her eyebrows shoot up. This had to be a joke. Or a nightmare. Either way, it was a bad one.

"Rae," the new Mister James said, standing to move around where she had to look at him, "this is just temporary. We at Family Services feel that a few days separation will give us a better view of what exactly is happening to you at home."

Rae backed away, toward the door. No, no, no, no, no, no. This was not happening. It couldn't be. Didn't Miss Susan just say last night that this would be a bad idea? She reached behind her for the doorknob but just felt empty space. Continuing to back away, Rae tried to keep both men in sight. They both moved toward her.

She spun around, racing for the door. Flinging it open, Rae ran out into the hall. Where could she go? Where could she hide? Dad. She had to call Dad and her cell was still in history class. Rae ran for her history class like something dark and dangerous was chasing her. She rounded the next corner to find her principal blocking her way.

Rae stopped, confused. Damn it, she should have explored all these freaking hallways by now. How did he do that? She backed away, to find a pair of large arms encircling her waist.

"No!" She screamed as she was lifted off her feet. "Help! Help! Fire!" Rae shouted at the top of her lungs. "Ffffiiiiiiirrrrrre!!!!"

Dad was right, fire definitely got more attention than kidnap. Heads poked out of nearly every classroom door. Lights flashed in the hallway. She kicked and screamed the whole way outside, desperately trying to fight her abductor. Rae tried to use those moves Dad and Uncle Sam taught her, but most of them were only good in a fight, not in being carried away. Besides, this guy was really strong. In the parking lot, away from all the watching eyes of the school, the guy threw her into the back of his car. She tried to hit or scratch him, but he caught both her wrists up in one of those fat, meaty hands. Rae kicked out, but he acted like it was nothing as he wound duct tape around her wrists. Her ankles were next, followed by a long piece over her mouth, tangling in her hair.

Rae watched, wide-eyed as he slammed the back door. No way was this a government man. They might be the enemy, but she never heard of them using duct tape.

-------------------------

Martin groaned at the pounding inside his skull. He was going to kill his cousin Ernie. What possessed him to start drinking with Ernie, anyway? Oh, right, the Coopers. Martin tried to sit up, but he couldn't. Confused, he peeled open his morning-after eyes. He was still at Ernie's. Wonderful. He hated this tiny apartment, full of empty pizza boxes and beer bottles. But why couldn't he sit up?

Martin tried looking himself over. He was still on Ernie's couch, probably where he passed out. What was that silver stuff on his chest? He tried to blink the fuzziness from his vision. This was more than a beer hang-over, Martin was sure. Beer never made him feel this thick and fuzzy. Duct tape? He was taped to Ernie's couch? What the hell was going on here?

The door slammed. Martin rolled his head to see his rather large cousin come in with a bundle over his shoulder. Horror rose in Martin when Ernie set his bundle down in the beaten, cigarette-burned easy chair. It was Rae Cooper and she looked terrified.

"Ernie?" Martin barely found his voice. "What the hell did you do?"

Ernie grinned at him. "Don't worry, Marty. I'm going to cut you in."

"Cut me in?" Martin tried to shake the fuzziness from his brain. "On what?"

"She's worth a fortune," Ernie said, pointing to the poor girl. "We're going to ransom her and be rich." He rubbed his hands together, that far too familiar greedy glint in his eyes.

"Damn it, Ernie. This is kidnapping. You do realize that's a federal offense?" Not to mention her father was one scary guy, which Martin chose not to mention. No reason to give Ernie the idea of going head-to-head with the father, they were already in deep.

"I looked up Clementine McDermott. She's worth millions!" Ernie's manic grin set Martin's teeth on edge. "And we are going to cash in!"

"No, Ernie," Martin tried to keep his voice even, level. "This is wrong. Just look how scared she is. Would you want to be in her shoes right now?" Ernie had one fucked-up childhood, the main reason Martin worked for Family Services, but he still had a conscience. At least, Martin hoped he did.

Ernie shrugged. "Doesn't matter. She's just a kid. She'll get over it."

Martin struggled against his bonds. Boy, when people talked about duct taping things, they were really serious, weren't they? "Did you?" he demanded. "Did you get over the things your father did to you?"

Ernie's face darkened, frightening Martin. "My dad was a great man. Still is." His hand swept over his apartment. "He's just ashamed of how I live right now. That'll change after I get this money. Then he'll be proud of me."

Martin shook his head. Ernie still didn't understand. That man's father was a menace. Even as an adult his cousin still wanted his father's approval. That was beyond sad. His gaze locked on to Rae's frightened eyes. He promised himself he would get her out of this somehow.


	25. Chapter 25

BIG thanks to _**Tona234angel **_for helping out with a little writer's block I had a few days ago. Kidnapping Rae was her idea, but I didn't want to mention it before because I didn't want to ruin the last chapter for ya! Thanks as always to **_Brigid Tanner_** for her proofing and to everyone still following this!!

**Chapter 25**

"Cute shirt," her kidnapper, Ernie, said. Rae ignored him, focusing on Marty. Marty looked nearly as scared as she felt. "Does your daddy really carry a forty-five?" Ernie's voice was taunting.

Rae shook her head. Dad carried a .38, but this bozo didn't need to know that.

"Didn't think so," Ernie said with a grin. "Too bad. Might have been fun."

Okay, Ernie was seriously creepy. "Marty, I'm going out for some food. I borrowed some cash from your wallet, just like I borrowed your id." Ernie laughed.

Marty shook his head. "What? You want me to keep an eye on your victim? Make sure she can't escape while you have me secured to the couch?"

"She's not a victim!" Ernie shouted. Marty did not flinch, though Rae was pretty sure she did. Ernie regained his composure. "Yeah, just keep an eye on her. I won't be long." Ernie kicked an empty pizza box out of his way as he left.

Marty sighed heavily, his eyes drifting from the closed door to her. "I really don't think he'll hurt you, Rae. Ernie is," Marty grimaced, "well, he's just that screwed up. You wouldn't believe the things his father did to him. Not that it's an excuse." Marty sighed again. "There's no excuse for this. Rae, I swear, I had nothing to do with this."

Rae looked over his bonds and nodded. That was pretty obvious.

"I think he drugged me," Marty continued, again struggling against the duct tape.

Rae looked around. If Ernie was going to be gone for a little while, maybe she could do something. She stood, hopping experimentally. Yep, she could get around like this. She looked at Marty, eyebrows raised.

"Over here. See if you can get my cell out of my pocket." Martin nodded down to his pocket. Rae saw the edge of a cell phone poking out, but the way he was strapped down she doubted he could use it.

Rae nodded, hopping toward him. Maybe between them they could call Dad.

---------------

His cell rang. Dean growled, slamming his wrench down as he pulled out his cell. He was becoming used to the look of it covered in grease, damn it. Why weren't they just on the road? All this therapy crap would have been avoided. Was this really best for Rae? He was seriously doubting it.

The number was not familiar. He hoped it wasn't that Grimmault woman again. "Hello?"

"Dean?" He knew that voice.

"How the hell did you get this number, Marty?" Dean demanded, and his anger faded then resurged as he listened to Marty's hurried explanation. When Dean demanded to know what Rae was wearing and Marty was able to tell him, right down to the color of her socks, he went cold. "I'll be right there."

Dean peeled off his work shirt as he walked out, letting it fall to the ground. He heard his coworker Joey calling after him. Dean ignored it. In the trunk of his car he found a spare shirt and his leather jacket. That was more like it. He popped open the weapons locker in the trunk, taking out his favorite pistol.

"Dean?" Joey leaned in, eyes going wide at the sight of all the weapons. "What's going on?"

"Somebody took Rae," he said calmly, checking the clip before tucking it into his back waistband. "I'm going to go get her." Almost as an afterthought, he took out the shotgun of rocksalt. He checked it and filled one pocket with spare cartridges. Rocksalt didn't kill, but it hurt like a son-of-a-bitch. This asshole was going down.

"Bye, Joey." Dean tossed the shotgun on the seat before hopping in. As he peeled out onto the road, one part of his mind wondered why this did not trigger one of those panic attacks. The rest of his mind told that part to shut the hell up, there was important work to do.

----------------

Sam shoved his phone in his pocket as he ran for the door. Rae was kidnapped and Dean sounded a little too calm about it. If he didn't get there in time, his brother was going to be legitimately wanted for homicide. As he started his car, Sam wondered if Dean called Bobby. He pulled out his phone and it went off in his hand. Bobby.

"Hello?"

"Sam! Did Dean call you?" Bobby demanded.

"I'm on my way," Sam confirmed, racing through the yellow light.

"Good. Meet you there."

Sam nodded to the air as he tossed his phone on the seat next to him, pressing down on the accelerator. As he raced toward the street Dean described and one of the apartment complexes they decided against without ever stopping, Sam wondered what his brother was going to do. He wished he remembered more about the last time Rae was kidnapped and how Dean reacted. That would at least tell him what to expect.

He spotted Bobby's truck as he parked on the side of the street. He waved as Bobby slowed to a stop.

"Where's Dean?" Bobby demanded, slamming his door.

"His work is a bit further away," Sam explained. "Any idea which apartment it is?"

Bobby shook his head. "I tried to ask, but he hung up on me. I guess he doesn't want us going in there without him."

Sam nodded. That sounded like Dean. "We can't let him kill them, Bobby," Sam said urgently. "They'll take Rae for sure then."

"Easy, Sam," Bobby patted his shoulder. "This is Dean's show. We'll play it his way."

Sam glared at Bobby. "You're kidding, right? Dean's show?" Sam nerves were shot and the last thing he wanted to hear was that Dean would be calling the shots. "Do you have any idea what he's going to do?" he demanded.

Bobby's head turned slowly from side to side. "Nope. Doesn't matter."

"What!" Sam grabbed Bobby by the shoulders. "Do you have any idea what you're saying, Bobby?" Okay, he was definitely in panic mode now. "He could kill them! Really kill them, Bobby!"

"Maybe." Bobby was way too calm about this. "But we're doing it Dean's way, Sam."

"Why?" Sam resisted the urge to shove Bobby against that stupid truck. What was it with stubborn old men driving trucks?

"Because that's his daughter in there," Bobby replied calmly. "And I'll be damned if I cross him on this."

Sam found himself staring at the older man. "What?"

Bobby stepped closer, until their noses practically touched. "If Dean's going in shooting, I want to be damn sure I'm behind him, not in front, Sam." Bobby's eyes flashed. "If it were you in there, I'd do the same thing."

Sam stepped back. If it were him in there? He shook his head. "You're not making any sense, Bobby."

A tight, humorless grin appeared on Bobby's face. "That's right, you've never seen your brother like this, have you?" A sharp bark of a laugh erupted. "You've usually been the cause. Well, Sam, welcome to the intense side of your brother."

Intense? Was Bobby kidding? Did Bobby honestly think he'd ever seen a side of Dean that Sam hadn't? It didn't get much more intense than going after Dad, saving Dad, Dean standing up to Dad. Bobby obviously didn't know what he was talking about. The growl of the Impala interrupted his thoughts.

Sam swiveled around to see his brother. The Impala screeched to a halt, Dean springing from the driver's seat clutching his favorite shotgun. That look on Dean's face, it sent a chill down Sam's spine.

"Ready?" Dean's voice was a dangerous growl.

"How we playing this, Dean?" Bobby asked, stepping forward.

"Sam, you check to see if there is a back way out. I want even the windows covered. Bobby and I are going in the front door."

"Dean!" Sam jumped in the way. "You can't just kick in the door. What if, if he's holding a gun on her or something?"

Dean glared at him and Sam had the feeling his big brother was resisting an urge to knock his teeth in. "He won't have time. Besides, Bobby doesn't look threatening. Now go grab a weapon from the trunk. You have exactly two minutes. It's apartment seventeen."

The keys arced toward him. Sam snagged them out of the air then raced to his brother's car. He took his pistol from the trunk, checked the clip, and shoved it into the back of his jeans. "Wait!" he shouted, running up to his brother. "I have an idea. Just let me check out apartment nineteen."

Dean's eyebrow arched at him. "How's that?"

"I'll find out if there is a back way out. The apartments should be built just alike." Sam felt breathless, like if he couldn't find a way of going in with Dean then something really horrible would happen.

Dean nodded slowly. "Good idea. Hurry up."

Sam raced for the apartment next door. He knocked, his winning smile in place. An elderly woman answered the door. "Hello, ma'am. I'm conducting a survey for the fire department. How many ways are there to leave your apartment in an emergency?"

Unfortunately, the interview took a few minutes longer than Sam wanted, longer than he felt comfortable with. Especially when a large man passed him to go into apartment seventeen. The man stopped, watched them for a moment, then entered his apartment. Sam ground his teeth. He just made them miss the perfect time to go in and get Rae by being too cautious. Sam thanked the woman before trudging back out to the parking lot where Bobby and his brother waited.

"The only way out is through the front door or the windows, and some guy just went into seventeen," Sam reported. His brother's facial expression did not change.

"What story did you use?" Dean asked, his voice flat and emotionless.

"Survey for the fire department about emergency exits."

Dean nodded, handing his shotgun over to Bobby. "That'll work." His cell rang. Dean grimaced when he checked his phone. "What is it, Dolan?" His face twisted slightly as he listened. "How much?" He scoffed into the phone. "Don't worry about it. We're taking care of it. What?" He listened again. "Yeah, sure. Whatever. I'll let you know how it goes later."

His big brother turned off the phone before tossing it to Sam. Sam caught it, stuffed it in his back pocket.

"Sam, new plan. You and I go in the front, Bobby backs us up. Ready?" Dean's eyes were beyond intense.

"Dean. You know that guy is going to take one look at you and know why you're really here, right?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "Cuts out the small talk. Let's go."

A strong hand propelled Sam toward apartment seventeen. He doubted he could get out of Dean's grip now if he tried. Sam knocked on the door. No answer. His heart pounding in his chest he knocked again, images of Rae beaten and bloody springing unwanted in his mind.

The door opened a crack, exposing a fleshy face and a mottled green and brown eye. "Yeah?"

Sam's mouth was too dry to speak. He tried, but little more than a squeak came out.

"Sir? We're doing an independent survey for the fire department. Do you know all the emergency exits for your apartment?" Dean said as he pushed Sam aside, a brilliant smile lighting his brother's face.

"What?" The dude pulled back from the door, confusion written all over his large face.

"Emergency exits," Dean repeated, placing a foot in the opened door, "in case of fire? So you know what to do? How to get out?"

"Look," the guy seemed to come to his senses, moving to shut the door, "I'm in the middle of something. Come back later."

Dean slammed his body into the open door, knocking the guy to the side. "Go!" Dean shouted. Sam ran inside, tripping over some empty boxes on his way. He spotted Rae on the far side of the room, wrapped in duct tape. Her eyes were far too wide, too frightened. Sam placed his body between her and the rest of the room. He felt her lean against his back, seeking comfort. Sam pulled out his gun, holding it loosely in his hand, just in case.

Dean knocked the bigger guy, the kidnapper, into the kitchen area. Bobby came in holding the shotgun and shut the door. While Bobby covered the room and Sam covered Rae (literally), Dean fought with Rae's kidnapper. Sam noticed that his brother did not bother to pull his gun, preferring fists to outright murder. He watched as Dean fought all out. The kidnapper was big, granted, but totally out-classed. Dean took a few blows, but Sam knew better than to run to help. Each time his brother got up, coming back harder and stronger than before. Sam was pretty sure Dean could literally beat this guy to death, so he was relieved when the larger man fell and did not get up. Dean reached down, pulled him up by the collar to land two more blows to the jaw.

"Dean." Bobby's voice cut through the tiny apartment, soft but insistent. Dean's head snapped to the side. Sam watched as the tension in his brother's shoulders drained at the sight of Bobby. For possibly the hundredth time, Sam sent a silence prayer of thanks for Bobby constantly interfering in their lives. The man was truly a godsend.

"Sammie Rae?" Dean asked, still standing over the unconscious form of her kidnapper.

Sam felt her try to move toward him. He turned, stuffing his gun in his waistband before picking her up. "She's a bit tied up, Dean," Sam explained, carrying her over. Dean's face paled at the sight of her bound like that.

"Uh, excuse me?" Sam looked down, seeing Martin from Family Services taped down to the couch for the first time.

"What happened to you?" Sam asked, handing Rae over to his brother.

"Drugged, duct taped. I never knew you could actually duct tape people before." Martin replied, shaking his head.

"Leave him," Dean barked. Sam looked over. Dean was carefully cutting away Rae's bonds, but that overly intense look had faded. Dean was in 'Dad' mode now.

"We can't leave him like this, Dean," Sam felt secure in arguing, making a motion to Bobby. Bobby produced a pocketknife and tossed it to Sam, not moving from his position by the door. "Besides, somebody has to call the cops on that guy."

Martin sighed. "Yeah, Ernie went way too far this time."

Sam froze, knife blade inches from cutting away the tape holding Martin down. "Ernie? You mean, you know him?" Anger rose up, causing the knife in his hand to tremble slightly.

"They're cousins," Rae's voice said calmly, clearly. "But Mister Martin didn't have anything to do with it. We think Ernie drugged him."

Sam looked to Dean now, for permission. Dean studied Rae's face before throwing a curt nod at Sam. Sam started cutting away the duct tape, wondering how the hell that Ernie guy managed to get the tape through the couch like that. Judging by the condition of the apartment, he figured maybe he was better off not knowing.


	26. Chapter 26

I had this chapter written two different ways, so thanks for the melding advice from _**Brigid Tanner**_, my intrepid proof-reader. Thanks to everyone following this!

(Anyone interested in a fic about the editor of The Demon Newsletter - which runs rampant on the CW boards - go check out _**laceym**_'s new fic. She's new to FFnet and a good friend, and known as **Denmother **on the CW boards.)

**Chapter 26**

Bobby watched over the room so Dean could concentrate on looking after Rae. He waited patiently as Dean peeled away the tape and Sam cut that Martin guy from the couch. When everyone was free to move about, Bobby cleared his throat.

"So what do we do with this one?" he asked, pointing the shotgun at the unconscious man on the floor.

"I have a few ideas," Dean grumbled, but his voice died off when Bobby shot him a strong look. Funny, after all these years Bobby never realized how much influence he really had on John's eldest. It was a little frightening and at the same time humbling. For Dean to trust anyone this much was rare. Rare as in 'oh, it's a friendly vampire' or 'don't worry, this demon is just visiting, exorcism won't be necessary.'

"We need to call the police," Martin stated firmly. "Ernie posed as an agent of Family Services and kidnapped a child." He shook his head sadly. "He must be held accountable."

"Would we have to testify?" Sam asked. "Would any of this make the papers or the news?"

Martin sighed. "Probably. This is pretty bad. I imagine the news would really sensationalize it."

"No," Dean snapped. "We can just leave tonight."

Bobby was shocked to see Sam nod in agreement. "We can sell the second car for money the next place we stop."

"No!" Rae said, stomping a foot, drawing all eyes on her. "We can't run every time we have a problem!"

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. "Rae, honey," Dean ran his hands from her shoulders down her arms, soothingly, "this isn't just a problem. This is a big, big problem. We can't be on the news. You know that."

"Dean, call Dolan," Bobby suggested, wondering over Rae's outburst. "Maybe he'll have an idea. Martin, you call the police. We'll be by the cars after Sam uses some of that tape on Ernie here."

Bobby had been watching the kidnapper carefully. The man's breathing was growing deeper and more regular, making him suspicious of Ernie waking soon. Dean hustled Rae toward the door, patting down his pockets looking for his cell.

"Dean!" Sam shouted. Dean looked back to see Sam fling his cell across the room. Dean caught it in one hand, never losing grip of Rae with the other. He threw his brother a nod in thanks before shoving Rae outside. Sam rushed over with strips of duct tape cut from the couch to secure the kidnapper while Martin searched for the phone.

Bobby waited until he was certain the kidnapper posed no danger before following Dean and Rae outside. He glanced back once to be sure Sam was behind him. They replaced the weapons in Dean's trunk before the cops could arrive. Bobby tried not to show any of the nervousness he felt while they waited.

They all leaned against the Impala. "What are we waiting for?" Bobby asked.

"We have to make sure the cops take Ernie away," Sam replied, looking more than a little shocked by the question.

"What for? Just leave tonight," Bobby replied, repeating Dean's idea as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "You can stay at my place until you decide where to go next, if you're all determined to stick with this school thing."

"Dad promised," Rae said, hands on hips. "We only disappear as a last resort."

Bobby frowned at her. "I didn't think you liked the idea of going to school."

Rae shrugged. "It's growing on me."

"English teacher is a bitch," Dean said softly from behind her. Sam shot him a glowering look.

"Yeah, but my history teacher is cool, so is the track coach. And I'm making friends." Rae stared at Sam. "I think I'm starting to understand what you mean about that now."

"How's that?" Sam asked, leaning forward to look at her.

His question was interrupted by Dean's cell ringing. "It's Dolan again," Dean said, answering it. Dean walked off a little ways to talk. Sam watched, clearly wishing he could make out more of the conversation.

"That's the real reason you won't leave, isn't it?" Rae asked softly, sliding closer to lean against his arm.

"What?" Sam looked down into her expectant face. "What are you talking about?"

"Because you're best friends, right?" Rae looked like she just had a huge revelation.

Sam cleared his throat, looking nervous. "What's our story?" Sam asked Bobby, fidgeting beside the Impala.

"Exactly what happened," Bobby said, thinking that maybe this was a good idea after all, if Rae was starting to understand relationships. "One, it's the truth, and two, if we show them good reason to keep your identities a secret, the police shouldn't release them to the media."

"What about our records?" Sam demanded.

Bobby shrugged. "Don't act guilty."

Dean laughed, stepped back beside Rae. Bobby noticed that he didn't move far from that girl. Actually, the rescue went far better than he could have hoped. "What did Dolan say?" he asked Dean.

Dean shrugged. "He said he'd work on it, call me back. Guess he doesn't have a clue either." Dean grinned and Bobby saw relief flood the oldest Winchester's features. Rae leaned back into his touch like she didn't have a care in the world, while Sam appeared worried enough for all four of them.

When sirens sounded some distance away, Sam jumped. "Easy there, Sammy," Dean chided, "you're going to give the whole game away."

Two police cars barreled into the parking area. Ernie left by ambulance with a police escort. The cops from the remaining car approached them. "Mister Cooper?"

"Officer Steve?" Sam asked, standing straighter.

"You know this guy?" Bobby hissed.

Sam shrugged. "Sorta."

Bobby made a mental note to ask about that later. What else has been going on with these three?

"Hey, sweetheart," Officer Steve approached Rae, "how are those nightmares?"

Rae smiled at him. "Better."

Bobby raised his eyebrows at Sam. Since when did Rae talk to anyone else? Sam looked a bit shocked, too.

"Hope this doesn't make them worse," he said.

Rae grinned. "Nah. My dad kicks ass."

Dean snorted back a laugh as Bobby pressed a hand over his mouth.

"So I see," he said, pointing to her shirt. "Can I ask you a couple of questions?" Officer Steve pulled out his notepad.

"Fire away," Rae said with a grin.

Officer Steve grinned. "Well, you're a lot more outgoing when you're awake, aren't you? Okay, how did he kidnap you? Where were you?"

"At school. I guess he told my principal that he was Mister Martin and I was being separated from my family. The principal helped him take me." Bobby watched Dean's face darken during Rae's explanation.

"Did you cry out? Scream for help?" The cop asked.

"Sure, just like Dad told me. I screamed help and fire, and everyone watched that moron take me away." Rae shook her head, her face displaying exactly what she thought of all the adults who actually bought Ernie's story.

"We'll have to ask the principal about that." Steve told Dean. "Even Family Services can't separate a child from her family without a court order." At the look that crossed Dean's face after that, Bobby figured he would not be standing between Dean and Rae's principal either. That did not look like a healthy thing to do.

"Officer Steve? Why is it people assume if you're being investigated by Family Services that you have a bad family?" Rae demanded.

Steve smiled at her. "Well, honey, people are like that. Okay, just a couple more questions. That all right?"

"Sure." Rae shrugged, like she did this type of thing every day.

"How did your family find you here?" The police officer asked.

"We called Dad on Mister Martin's cell. He wanted me to dial nine-one-one, but I knew better," Rae told him with a nod.

Office Steve looked confused. "You knew better? Than to call the police?"

Rae's hands went to a firm hold on her hips. "I'm already grounded, no way was I going to make it worse."

Officer Steve chuckled, looking at Dean. "I take it you'll explain this to her later?"

"Sure," Dean replied with a nod, "no problem." Bobby doubted Dean would tell Rae she did anything wrong. If anything, he figured the grounding might be lifted.

"Okay, I'm going to head over to your school now, unless you'd like a police escort home?" The friendly cop offered.

Rae laughed. "No, thanks. I'm with my family. Doesn't get any safer than this."

Officer Steve shook each of their hands and took down all three of their work and cell numbers before leaving.

"Good man," Bobby observed.

"Yeah. Wish I could get Sarah to call him," Sam grumbled as Dean and Rae climbed into the Impala. Bobby waited for them to leave.

"Problems with this Sarah?" he asked.

Sam sighed, leaning against Bobby's truck. "Maybe. I'm pretty sure her ex is stalking her."

"How's that?" Bobby asked, wondering how long they could lag behind before Dean started calling.

"Well, I think I saw him near our apartment last night," Sam said softly, as though the boy could get away with that kind of omission by whispering it.

"Last night?" Bobby's eyes slid over Sam's face. "You didn't say anything," he accused.

Sam heaved a sigh. "I don't want to worry Dean. He's dealing with enough as it is."

"You're talking about the panic attacks," Bobby observed.

Sam raked both hands through his hair. "Yeah. Honestly, I'm surprised he was able to deal with this today."

"I'm not," Bobby replied, heading for his truck. The weight of Sam's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Why not?" Sam demanded. "You didn't see him after that big episode. The paramedics thought it was a heart attack," he hissed through clenched teeth.

Bobby remembered Dean telling him how the heart attack still bothered Sam. "Because Dean doesn't panic when he has a job to do. From what I can tell, each of his attacks happened as the result of something he thought was out of his control."

Sam's hand dropped away from his arm. "I never thought of it like that," he admitted. "Wait, what do you know about each of his attacks?"

"While you and Rae went for a drive, Dean and I had a little talk." Bobby shrugged, opening his truck door.

"Bobby? Did he tell you when they started?" Sam asked, peering at him through those shaggy bangs.

Bobby debated on whether or not to lie. Finally he just nodded.

"It was after we moved here, right?" Sam seemed desperate for this answer. "Right?"

Bobby frowned, studying the younger man. "Why don't you tell Dean about Sarah's stalker and then ask him that." He jumped into his truck, pulling the door shut. Bobby leaned out the window. "The best relationships are founded on honesty."

----------------------

Sam watched Bobby drive away. Honesty? Was he kidding? It's not like Dean was always honest either, always keeping little details and things to himself. Since Bobby arrived and Sam watched how much his brother relaxed around the older man, Sam had become suspicious of when exactly these panic attacks started. Dean had not been this relaxed for quite a while, maybe a few months before they settled here.

He slipped into his own car, watching the yellow police tape put up on the door of apartment seventeen. They could not let this go to trial, not and stay in the same town. Not only was there a chance of Dean being recognized, but the fact it could become common knowledge that Rae was really the heiress Clementine McDermott. This time the kidnapping was done by a complete moron, fortunately for them, but what about next time? They couldn't afford a next time.

Sam was starting to understand why Dean was suffering from these attacks. He felt some serious anxiety himself. As he took out his keys to start the car, Sam noticed that his hand was shaking. After debating with himself for a moment, Sam pulled out his cell and searched through his phone list. He needed to make a call before going home.


	27. Chapter 27

Thanks to everyone following this and those of you kind enough to leave a review.

**Chapter 27**

"Hello?"

"Dolan?" Sam asked, feeling his heart still hammering in his chest. "This is Sam."

"Sam," Dolan sounded surprised. "I'm a little busy right now, but what can I do for you?"

"We can't let Rae's link to the McDermott Estate become public knowledge," Sam rushed to say. "It's too dangerous."

"I've noticed," Dolan replied, sounding too calm for Sam's liking. "I'm working on that."

"How?" Sam demanded.

"No offense, Sam, but I usually discuss this kind of thing with Dean. He is the one responsible for her, after all." Dolan did not sound condescending, just anxious not to cross Dean. Sam didn't blame him; people usually did not cross Dean when it came to Rae, not without serious repercussions.

Sam took a deep breath to calm himself, steady his nerves which were still twanging violently from the day's events. "Dolan, just tell me what you're planning."

"Obviously we can't let this go to trial," Dolan replied, sounding unsure of what he was doing, "so I've contacted the local D.A. The estate is offering to pay for the man's internment in a mental health facility if he will commit himself rather than go to trial. From what Dean told me earlier, he sounds like he's a few fries short of a happy meal anyway."

Sam heard the chuckle that escaped him, wondering where it came from. "Yeah, that'd be my guess, too. What else?"

"I'm claiming that the estate's interest is merely that Rae was selected to receive a college scholarship at the time of her adoption, one of the estate's many charities. Oh, and please tell Dean that his bank account will be 'reasonable' by tomorrow. I noticed he already spent nearly fifty thousand, so that's how much I'd like to leave in it."

Sam froze. Bank account? "Dean spent fifty thousand? Dollars? On what?"

"Something to do with cars, probably," Dolan's voice sounded unusually calm, "he spent it at that garage where he works. Personally, I was just glad to finally see him using some of the money."

"That's why he told me to take Rae shopping," Sam mumbled to himself.

"What was that? I didn't catch that," Dolan replied.

"Nothing," Sam said, shaking his head, trying to orient his thoughts. "Anything else?"

"No. Oh, that's Dean on the other line. I thought you two were always together? Bye, Sam."

Sam heard the click as Dolan took Dean's call. He leaned his head back, resting against the seat in his car as his cell slipped from his hand to rest on the seat. His car. Fifty thousand? No way! Dean didn't even like to tip waitresses. Sam cranked the engine, heading back to their apartment and his laptop. What did a SS Chevelle go for anyway?

------------------------

After hanging up with Dolan, Dean called each of Rae's friends in turn, Amy last. He considered calling her first, but he was afraid they'd talk so long it would be too late to call the others. Since he had Susan's cell number now, he called her first to let her know that Rae was home and just fine. Then he called Brad's parents. Dean was tempted to laugh when he heard Brad's "thank god" in the background, but it really was not funny. Actually, it was rather comforting to learn she had friends who really cared.

Karen and Amy were nearly hysterical, as he suspected. Dean handed over the phone to Rae and took his spot on the couch, sinking into it with relief.

"How you holding up, Dean?" Bobby asked, eyeing him from the other side of the couch.

Dean forced a grin, but he feared it was pretty weak. "No problem. Just a little tired."

"Take a nap," Bobby nodded toward the bedroom. "Sam will be here soon."

Dean frowned. "What the hell is keeping him, anyway?"

"It's been a hard day on all of you, Dean. I'd guess Sam needs a few minutes to himself, and you probably do, too." Bobby looked pointedly toward the bedroom.

Dean felt his resistance wavering. He stretched. "My back is kinda sore." With a glance at Rae, he told Bobby, "But if she needs me…"

"I won't hold her back, Dean. Promise. Go on, you look like death warmed-over."

Dean chuckled, rolling his eyes. Leave it to Bobby to drive a point home with a sledge-hammer. He gave the older man a grateful nod as he pushed off the couch to head for his bed. He paused at the bedroom door. "Bobby? If Sam doesn't show up in fifteen minutes…"

"I'll call him. Now get." Bobby waved a hand in Dean's direction, his gaze turning to Rae. Dean knew it was a calculated move to instill confidence so he would take that nap. Fine. He felt too tired to argue and besides, it was Bobby. There wasn't much the old man couldn't do. Dean smiled to himself as he collapsed on his bed, feeling secure as his eyelids grew too heavy to hold open.

---------------

Bobby watched Rae pace in the kitchen area, talking on Dean's cell. Grandfather, huh? He was still debating on whether he liked that one. It seemed unfair to John Winchester, even though he was unsure how John would have handled Dean adopting a daughter. Bobby felt he knew Dean pretty well after all this time, definitely better than he knew Sam, but that Grandfather comment sent him for a loop. For Dean to even suggest Bobby as a stand-in for his father was the kind of compliment Dean could not give lightly. Was it this new medication causing Dean to say these things, or did the boy really feel that way?

When Rae threw him a grin from the kitchen, Bobby decided he didn't care why, that he would take it while he could get it. And if she called him Gramps again, he wouldn't argue about it.

"I don't know, I'll have to ask my Dad," Rae said, walking back toward the couch. She raised her eyebrows in question at Bobby. Bobby shook his head, pointing to the boys' bedroom. "Oh, guess I'll have to ask him later, Amy. I'll call you when I know. Bye!" Rae took the phone back to the kitchen and plugged it into a charger.

"Bobby? What's Dad doing?" she asked from the kitchen.

"Supposed to be taking a nap," he answered, slightly disappointed not to be called Gramps.

Rae scowled as she returned to the den area, plunging into the couch. "Why?"

"It's been a long day, Rae. Don't you feel a little tired?" Bobby asked, leaning close enough to nudge her shoulder.

Rae flashed that brilliant smile at him. "Nope, not really. I just feel…"

Bobby waited, but she did not finish her thought. "What?"

She shrugged, still smiling. "Happy, I guess."

Bobby nodded. "Relieved, maybe?"

Rae shrugged again. "If you say so, Gramps." She emphasized the 'gramps', clearly trying to irritate him. She must be in a good mood.

"So, other than kidnapping and ghosts in the library, how is school going?" Bobby asked, trying to find that niche again, that place where they connected.

Rae rolled her eyes, leaning closer to him. "Okay, I guess. Dad's right about my English teacher, though. She's got a hard-on for Shakespeare."

Bobby resisted chuckling, swallowing the smile threatening to consume his face. "Uh, I don't think that's appropriate to say about a woman teacher."

"Oh." Rae fell silent for a moment, pondering. "Guess I don't know what that means, then." She held up a hand. "But don't tell me. I don't want to know. And yes, I know if I ask Dad, he'll tell me. In graphic detail." She grimaced like someone just shoved a lemon in her mouth.

"Would you prefer he lie to you?" Bobby asked, not trying to correct her, just interested in why she thought that way.

"No," she sighed, slouching further into the cushions, "but sometimes I don't want to know everything, you know?"

"Yeah, I know." Bobby patted her knee. "Ignorance is bliss, but it can also get you killed."

Rae shifted to look him in the eye. "Will not knowing what a hard-on is get me killed?"

Bobby chuckled. "Nope, don't think so."

"Good. Want to see if there's a good movie on? Once Uncle Sam gets here, it's pretty much stuck on the history channel." She picked up the remote.

Sam blew in the door, slamming it behind him. He stopped, like he was surprised to see them sitting on the couch. "Hey. Rae? You okay?"

"Fine, Uncle Sam. We were looking for a movie." She pressed the button to turn on the television.

"Don't let Dean hear you," Sam cautioned, "or we'll be watching Hell Hazers again." He paused passing through the room. "Where is Dean?"

"Taking a nap," Bobby answered, eyes glued to the set. From the corner of his vision he saw Sam frown and glare toward the bedroom. Sam must have changed his mind then, because he headed into the kitchen to set up his laptop on the table.

---------------

Sam waited for his laptop to boot, wondering why Dean would be napping at a time like this. Usually after something happened involving Rae, his brother would be so wound up he would pace until Sam forced him to go work out his aggressions someplace, preferably a gym. Now Dean was napping. Since when did his brother nap anyway?

Sam connected to his network provider, pulling up a search window.

Dean slept, sure, but nap? No, that was unlike his brother. Maybe it was related to the medication for the panic attacks. Maybe that made him sleepy. Did that mean Dean took one today? Did he need one before racing out to save Rae?

Sam typed 'SS Chevelle" and 'price' into the search window. Hits popped up. Sam clicked on the first one, his mind elsewhere.

Assuming Dean did not need a pill today, that Bobby was right and Dean only had an attack when he felt helpless, what would explain this napping? And what would explain how relaxed Dean appeared? Was it Bobby? Why would Bobby have that kind of effect on Dean? And why would Dean feel more comfortable around Bobby than Sam?

This search was useless. The prices he was finding for his car ranged from ten to seventy thousand. Surely his brother would not blow fifty thousand on one car. Maybe Dean bought a spare car, too? To have in case the Impala or Chevelle broke down?

Frustrated, Sam snapped his laptop shut. Dean was holding things back, he was sure of it now. What did Bobby suggest earlier? Tell Dean about the stalker then ask about the car. Fine.

Sam stalked across the room, heading for his bedroom, their bedroom.

"Sam?" he heard Bobby's voice over whatever movie those two found. "You sure you want to…" the words trailed off as Sam shot Bobby the 'shut the hell up' look, the one Dean claimed could sour milk. Sam opened his bedroom door, shutting it softly behind him.

Dean looked positively peaceful asleep, far more peaceful than his brother looked in months. And why was it he only noticed this now, after all hell broke loose today? Sam stood watching his brother sleep, unable to bring himself to disturb that blissful slumber.

"Sam?" Dean's eyes opened slowly. "Problem?"

Sam lowered himself to his bed, eyes never leaving his brother. "We need to talk."

Dean blinked a few times, like his vision needed to adjust. His brother sat up, leaning against the wall that served as a headboard. "So talk."

Sam ground his teeth. This was just like Dean, trying to give Sam what he asked for without actually putting any of himself into it. Sam tried to take a few deep breaths, being upset would not help, it would just turn this into a big argument. He did not want an argument.

"What did you pay for the car?" he asked, staring through his bangs.

"What it's worth. Believe, that baby is in perfect condition." Dean grinned, his face lighting up. "I spent weeks on that engine, getting everything just so. Purrs like a freaking kitten, doesn't it?"

"Like a kitten," Sam mumbled, shifting uneasily on his bed. "When did the panic attacks really start?"

Dean looked like Sam just tried to punch him or something. "What do you mean?"

Sam sighed, grasping the back of his neck with one hand. "Dean, I don't think we've been exactly honest with each other lately, have we?"

Dean's eyes widened. "We haven't? Meaning both of us?"

"Yeah." Sam hoped Bobby was right, that this was the thing to do. "Sarah broke up with her boyfriend."

Dean's face split into a wide grin. "You dog."

Sam shook his head. "It's not like that, Dean. He, uh, was starting to get abusive. I think he was already being emotionally abusive and controlling. She has a bruise," Sam pointed to his upper arm, "in the shape of a hand."

He watched Dean's eyes flash with anger. His brother might be something of a womanizer, but abuse was never something Dean tolerated. "She broke up with him? For sure?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure." Sam's eyes dropped to the floor. "I think I saw him last night."

"Where? On your drive with Rae?" He heard Dean's feet hit the floor as his brother shot out of bed.

"No. Outside." Sam looked up. "He might be following me."

"Damn it, Sam!" Dean's voice raged in the small room. "And you're just telling me this now?"

Sam nodded as he stood to face his angry brother, knowing he might get a right hook for his trouble. "So why don't you tell me the real story behind the panic attacks?" He could hear the television now. Apparently they were disturbing Bobby and Rae's movie.

Dean's jaw clenched. Sam could see a couple of facial muscles convulse under the pressure. "I want the dude's name," he demanded.

"You'll know as soon as I do," Sam promised, unable to resist the grin he felt over that. It was good to see Dean concerned about someone he barely knew. They had been pretty wrapped up in their own lives lately, not worrying about other people. "So, I told you. You have something to tell me?"

Dean sighed, sinking into the bed. "Fine. But you have to promise not to get pissed."

Sam nodded, hoping he would be able to keep his promise.


	28. Chapter 28

Okay, not as much action, but I had fun! Thanks for reading and thanks to _**Brigid Tanner **_for the incredibly quick proofing!

**Chapter 28**

It was hard to keep that promise, it really was. Sam gripped the edge of his mattress, trying to keep his temper in check. "A couple of months before we moved here?"

Sam looked at his brother, watched Dean swallow hard. Dean nodded, looking away.

"You should have told me, Dean," Sam insisted.

Dean shrugged. "It didn't seem like a big deal at the time. Besides, you said I was overreacting and I probably was."

Sam frowned. "I said you were overreacting? You mean, you did tell me?"

Dean's eyes were fixed to the far wall. "Well, sort of. I started to and you said I was overreacting, then you brought out that damned list."

Sam nodded, more to himself than Dean. "I guess I was sort of obsessive about the list, huh?"

"For all the good it did," Dean grunted. "Maybe we should head out to Bobby's tonight."

"Okay."

Dean's eyes snapped to his, eyebrows up in either question or shock. "Okay? You mean, if I said start packing, you'd just pack up? No arguing? No hundred and one questions? None of that 'but Rae needs a normal life' crap?"

"It's not crap, Dean, and I think you know that. But yes, if you want to leave tonight, then we'll leave tonight. No problem." Sam replied, hoping he sounded as sincere as he felt. To prove his point he went to the closet and pulled out his duffel. "Should I start now?"

Dean stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head. "No. I promised. Besides, I think Susan is helping. Rae hasn't talked about her parents in years, but she sounds like she's looking forward to her next appointment."

"That's good." Sam shoved his duffel back in the closet. "Speaking of appointments, when is your next one?"

Dean frowned, checking his watch. "Uh, I think I just slept through it."

Sam wanted to chew his brother out for that, but Dean still looked tired and it had been a bad day. "Guess you needed it." He pulled his cell out. "I'll give the office a call, see when they can work you in. You want to lie down until dinner?"

Dean gave him an odd look. "You're cooking?"

Sam offered a small smile. "I was thinking pizza."

"Pepperoni," Dean replied, stretching out. "But check with Bobby first."

Sam paused, still looking at his phone. "Uh, I wanted to ask you about that."

"What? The kind of pizza Bobby likes? He's in the next room, ask him." Dean's eyes were closed, his face devoid of expression.

"No, not that." Sam took a deep breath.

"What?" Dean sounded distant, half-asleep.

"Nevermind, we can talk about it later," he said softly, edging out the door. As he pulled the door shut, Dean's slow, even breathing reached his ears. His brother was asleep already.

Sam headed out into the main room, calling the therapist's office. He snagged the remote off the coffee table, turned down the volume. The receptionist managed to work Dean in tomorrow morning. Sam decided that would be fine, he doubted Dean would let Rae out of his sight long enough to go to work tomorrow anyway. That was assuming they both still had jobs tomorrow. Sam knew he did not say anything to his supervisor before running out and he doubted Dean would have bothered either. Why did Dean think they could do this again, taking care of a child?

"Uncle Sam?" Rae stood beside him. He must have been really wrapped up in his own thoughts not to notice that. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah, no problem. Feel like pizza tonight?"

"Sure." She grinned at him. "Pepperoni?"

"Go ask Bobby what he wants," Sam nodded toward the couch.

"Yo, Gramps!" Rae shouted over the television. "How's pepperoni pizza sound?"

One hand lifted into the air, a thumb pointed to the ceiling. "He says that's fine," Rae said.

"Gramps?" Sam asked, eyebrows raised.

Rae flashed a bright smile as she leaned in conspiratorially. "I think he likes it." The smile fell as that cute, pondering expression replaced it. "Maybe Dad should have told him about it before. You think Bobby's feelings wouldn't have been hurt?"

Sam motioned with his head, leading them to the far side of the kitchen. "Bobby's feelings were hurt?"

Rae nodded. "When Dad didn't call to tell him where we were. Bobby thought it meant Dad didn't want him around any more."

Sam winced, glancing over at the couch and Bobby's wild, curly hair sticking out from under the trademark ballcap. "I'm sure Dean didn't mean…"

"He didn't," Rae interrupted sharply.

Sam leaned against the table, eyeing her. "You sound pretty sure about that."

Her eyes lit up. "He told Miss Susan that Bobby was my grandfather. Called Bobby a stand-in for his dad. Isn't that cool?"

Those twanging nerves of Sam's were vibrating again. "How is that cool?" he demanded, consciously trying to keep his voice down.

"Because Dad did the same thing I did," Rae explained patiently, voice soft. "I found a new dad, and so did he." She watched him silently for a moment. "So are you ordering that pizza or what?"

Sam nodded, studying the pattern in the vinyl kitchen floor. "Yeah, in a minute. Go watch your movie."

"Uncle Sam?" He looked up into a worried face. "You can do that too, you know. It's okay. It doesn't mean you don't love them anymore."

He tried to smile for her, reached out and tugged her into a warm embrace. "Thanks, kid. Now go hang out with 'gramps'."

Rae giggled as she skipped into the den, bouncing on the couch beside Bobby. He watched Bobby drape an arm over her shoulders, smile at her. Apparently Bobby was the grandfather type. Huh. Why didn't he notice that before?

Sam pulled out a chair to sit in, staring at the phone in his hand. He called the therapist's office again to make an appointment for himself, right after Dean's. He was missing far too much happening within his family lately and that was not good. Hopefully this guy could help him sort a few things out. He remembered that he still needed to order the pizza.

-----------------

Rae woke to a voice. She opened her eyes to a dark room, something heavy over her legs. Trying to twist around to find the source of the voice, she heard Dad mumble, "No, won't let him." Almost immediately both of Dad's arms, the one under her pillow and the one hanging off his side of the bed, wrapped around her and pulled her in close. His dream-induced embrace was tight, breathing was barely possible.

"No!" he shouted, his voice clear and loud this time. "You can't have her!"

"Dad?" she managed to squeak, the pressure against her ribs preventing enough air to shout. "Dad?"

He rolled back and forth, still clutching her tightly to his chest. Rae rolled with him, not that she had a choice but fighting might have made things worse.

"NO!" His shout filled the room, making her heart race. Dad never sounded like that, like he was scared. What could scare him? What was he dreaming?

The door to her room burst open, but she was too busy trying not to be crushed to see who it was.

"Dean? Dean!" Thank god, it was Uncle Sam. The light came on, not that it helped her much, she still couldn't see anything through Dad's frantic thrashing. Then strong hands peeled Dad's arms away from her, but that made things worse.

"NO!" Not fear this time, just pure anger. Rae watched as Dad's eyes opened, fixed on Uncle Sam. She recognized that look, the look Dad had just before he went after something that hurt Uncle Sam. She was pretty sure he was not awake yet, that he still saw whatever was in his dream.

Rae sprung in front of her uncle, hands up, trying to get Dad's attention. "Dad? Daddy! Wake up!"

Dad paused, eyes dropping to her. His shoulders slumped and he dropped down to sit on the bed. Rubbing his eyes with one hand, he asked, "What happened?"

"Probably woke the neighbors," Bobby's voice was close. Rae sought it out, found the old man standing right behind Dad. Bobby looked pretty tense, like he had been about to grab Dad from behind, like he still might.

Dad chuckled, but he did not sound amused. "Sorry. I'll, uh, I'll go watch a movie or something. You all go back to sleep." He stood to leave the room.

"Hold on, Dean." Bobby blocked the door. "What the hell was that?"

"Nothing." Dad shoved past Bobby. "Don't worry about it."

Bobby and Uncle Sam shared a look before following Dad out of her room. Okay, sleep now was flat out impossible. Rae followed the men into the den where Bobby and Uncle Sam were confronting Dad.

"Dean, that wasn't nothing," Bobby insisted. "Was it a nightmare or what?"

Dad pulled out his Hell Hazers DVD, ignoring everyone.

"Dean, answer the man!" Uncle Sam shouted. Rae stared at that. Uncle Sam rarely shouted and since they found out about the panic attacks, he barely raised his voice.

Dad popped the DVD in the player and turned on the television. Looked like Uncle Sam and Bobby were not going to make any headway like this. Rae took a deep breath, evaluating what she planned to do. It seemed like the right thing anyway. She walked into the room and turned off the tv. She turned slowly to face her Dad, who refused to look her in the face.

"Daddy? Was it a bad nightmare?" Rae asked, moving slowly toward him. She only pulled out 'daddy' when she was really scared or really wanted something.

He shrugged, still not looking at her. Well, at least he acknowledged her. She took a couple of steps forward, until her knees nearly touched his. "Did it get me?"

He looked up then, eyes wide. She noticed his face pale. The thing in his nightmare did get her.

"They always get you, too," she told him, resting her hands on his knees. "But I bet the cops don't show up for your nightmare."

The scared in Dad's face was chased away by a tiny smile. He leaned forward, resting his head against her abdomen as he hugged her, nearly as tight as he did during his nightmare. "Have I ever told you what a great kid you are?"

She smiled, looking up at Uncle Sam and Bobby. "Nope. Never."

All the tension drained from Uncle Sam's face but Bobby still looked worried. Uncle Sam shoved Bobby in the shoulder. "Just a nightmare," he told Bobby softly, "not a panic attack."

Bobby nodded, scrubbing the top of his head. "Well, if all the action is over for the day, what's this movie Dean keeps talking about?" He walked around to turn the television back on. The last trailer before the movie started was on. Bobby settled on the couch next to Dad, patting his Dad's leg a couple of times before directing his attention to the movie.

Rae squeezed between them, feeling secure between the two men. She saw Uncle Sam standing off to the side, looking left-out. Rae motioned with her head to the floor beside her. Uncle Sam frowned and headed for the kitchen. He came back with three beers and one brown bottle root beer. Rae took her root beer as the others accepted their beers. Uncle Sam settled on the floor, leaning back against the arm of the couch. When Rae checked on him halfway through the movie, Uncle Sam was sound asleep, his head resting on Dad's leg.

"He was always a lightweight," Dad whispered, catching her. Rae tried to grin at that, but a yawn interrupted her. She lifted Dad's arm so she could lean against his chest. Now she was surrounded by her family, everyone in touching distance. This was the safest place in the world.


	29. Chapter 29

Okay, apparently it looks like Sam has been, well, needing a visit from Missouri's spoon. I hope this chapter clears some of that up!

**Chapter 29**

Dean entered his therapist's office, wondering what the topic today would be. Probably panic attacks, which was to be expected. He still wondered over Sam insisting to come with him, hoped his brother did not really expect to go in during his appointment. That was not going to happen.

The receptionist called his name. Sam did not look up, but Dean felt his brother's eyes on him until he shut the door.

"Hey, Doc," Dean greeted, shaking his doctor's hand. "What's new?"

"That's my line, Dean," Doc Snyder chided, motioning to the large armchair.

Dean settled in, heard paper crinkling in his pocket. "Oh, Doc, before I forget – can you do me a favor?"

"What's that?" Doc Snyder paused, turning back to watch him.

Dean pulled the paper out of his pocket. "Would you give this to Susan for me? She asked me to bring it for Rae's next visit, but I thought she might like to read it ahead of time."

"Is that the English paper about how her birth parents died?" He asked, taking it from Dean.

"Yep." Dean settled back into the chair. "How did you know that? You two share notes or something?"

Doc Snyder smiled at him. "As a matter of fact, we do, especially if we're treating family members. I think I'm seeing your brother next."

Dean's head jerked up. "Sam has an appointment with you next?"

The doctor checked his schedule. "Yes, he does. You didn't know that?"

Dean groaned. "He hasn't been exactly open with me lately." He rolled his eyes. "Well, maybe there has been a lot of that going around."

"Is that so?" He saw the doctor's eyes drop to Rae's paper, scanning it. "Hang on a minute, Dean."

He wondered if this would happen. Doc Snyder finished reading Rae's paper and stared over the top at Dean. "That's a copy," Dean told him, "you can put it in her file."

"We will. Is that…" Doc Snyder pursed his lips, like he could not quite find the right words. "Is this an accurate representation?"

"Pretty much," Dean replied with a nod.

"I mean, how much of this has been, uh, blown out of proportion?" Snyder sounded like he was choosing his words carefully.

Dean frowned, shrugged. "Not sure. I didn't get there until after her parents were eaten. That part is pretty accurate, though."

The doctor's eyebrows shot up at that. "Seriously? I mean," he looked around, "this isn't one of those hidden camera shows, is it?"

"No, it's her freaking life," Dean snapped. "And if you can't handle that," he pushed out of the chair, moving to snatch the paper away.

"No, no," Doc Snyder slapped his folder shut, Rae's paper inside it. "I didn't mean it that way. I just…" He motioned to the chair again. "Dean, please sit."

Dean remained on his feet, glaring.

Doc Snyder blew out a long breath. "I haven't run into anything quite like this before, that's all. It just took me by surprise. I'll make sure Susan reads it before Rae's next appointment. I'm sure she'll want to discuss it. Dean? Please?"

Grudgingly, Dean took his seat, glaring daggers.

"Now that you've brought it up, maybe we should discuss it? I mean, her adoption started with saving her from some man-eating grizzly, that's enough to make anyone overly protective. You saved her. You really, literally saved her."

"Yeah. So?" Dean demanded, not reassured yet.

"What is that like? For you?"

Dean sighed, rolling his eyes. Yeah, this was more like what he expected.

------------------

For the first time Guy Snyder was grateful to be splitting a family with Susan. She probably had the more difficult patient, the girl. But the father, he was a piece of work all by himself. First he rescued the girl, took her right out of the bear's cave, then adopted her. Okay, that Snyder could see, understand. So now the adoptive father of seven years is overly protective and probably possessive of the girl, who was just entering the teen years, and he could not handle the fact that boys were starting to notice her.

He met her, briefly, during Dean's first visit to his office. She was cute, he could see why she was already attracting attention. The magazines may play up the anorexic blondes, but a sweet fresh face, round cheeks and soft brown hair could have teenage boys falling out of their chairs. For all the horror she had seen in her young life, Rae was still an innocent. Before meeting with Dean today, Snyder read over Susan's notes and wanted to accuse her of making up the whole 'never heard of incest or child molestation' comment, but she was adamant about it. Talking with Dean, he could see why.

Dean appeared completely honest with the answers he was willing to give. Some things the man just refused to discuss, glaring at him and demanding to know what that had to do with panic attacks. It took some work, but eventually Snyder was able to pry out of the man sitting stiffly across from him that Dean had no say in moving here or in how their lifestyle changed so abruptly. Apparently once Dean agreed to settle in one place his brother took the initiative in selecting the city, the apartment, Rae's school, even to the point of arranging Dean's job interviews. And that was the brother he needed to meet with next.

"Don't say anything to him, Dean," Snyder cautioned. "He may be just as stressed as you are at this point."

Dean glared at him with guarded eyes before nodding curtly, pushing out the door. Snyder watched the brief exchange between the brothers before hurrying to his desk, trying to look like he had not been observing.

"Sam," he greeted, holding out a hand, "good to see you again."

Snyder noticed the careful way Sam shook his hand, applying even pressure that would not be too light or too hard, unlike Dean who wanted you to know he could take charge any second.

"Doc. Uh, where do I sit? I do sit, right?" Sam looked around his office.

Snyder chuckled. "No couches in here. Sit wherever suits you." He gestured to the three chairs in front of his desk. Dean always selected the one furthest from the door. This time he had even rearranged the chairs to see if it was the position or the type of chair. It was position. Sam selected the most comfortable chair, which was in the middle. "So what brings you in today, Sam?"

Sam cleared his throat, looking both nervous and guilty. "Uh, well. You know, I'm not sure I can explain it without sounding…stupid."

Snyder smiled. "Nothing leaves this room, Sam. If you need to sound stupid, then go right ahead. I am not here to judge you."

Sam's eyes darted to the closed door again. "Those doors are pretty thick, right? I mean, Dean tried to listen in when you were talking to Rae, but I don't think he heard anything."

"The thickest we could find. Susan has experimented with scream therapy, so the offices had to be soundproofed," he explained.

"That's good," Sam mumbled, eyes roving over the room. "You really have a lot of books in here."

"Sam," Snyder cleared his throat, "you brother wasn't this evasive his first time here. Now what's going to make you sound so stupid?"

Sam's hands clutched the chair arms, his knuckles turning white under the pressure. "I, uh, I'm not sure I fit in with my family anymore."

Okay, so he was right about Sam's stress level. "What do you mean, Sam? How do you feel that you're not fitting in?"

Sam took a deep breath before plunging ahead. "Well, I'm just an uncle, right? And now I guess Dean's decided that Bobby can fill-in for our dad, and is calling him Rae's grandfather, and he seems so relaxed with Bobby around. Before Bobby showed up, I didn't even notice how uptight he was." Sam sighed. "Did he tell you he had a panic attack a couple of months before we moved here? And not only did I not notice, I blew him off!"

Snyder set his pen down, choosing to maintain eye contact with Sam instead. He had a tape recorder in his desk anyway, so he would be able to catch up on his notes later. "Now, Sam, I know Dean never used the words panic attack and I seriously doubt he would have admitted to panicking at all. Do you remember what he did tell you?"

Sam groaned, running both hands through his hair. "Something about a boy looking at Rae in the pizza parlor." He shrugged. "As protective as Dean is, I really didn't think anything of it at the time."

"Right," Snyder leveled a finger at Sam, "and Dean never brought it up again, right? Even after he experienced a few more?"

Sam's eyes widened. "There were more?"

Snyder pursed his lips, regretting that slip. Well, how was he to know that Dean only told his brother about the first one and not any of the others? "That's not the point I'm making here. Now, let's get back to this Bobby person. Who is Bobby and why would Dean need a fill-in for your dad?"

Sam's adam's apple bobbed a bit before he answered. "Bobby is an old friend of the family, a friend of dad's." The fingers of his right hand drummed mercilessly on the armrest. "I don't know when they got so close, either."

"Your dad and Bobby?" Snyder asked.

Sam's head shook. "Dean and Bobby. I mean, I know they knew each other before…" He swallowed hard. "But since then, it's always let's call Bobby or maybe Bobby can help with that."

"Since when, Sam?" Snyder felt lost, like he was only hearing one side of a conversation.

Sam's eyes locked with his. "Since Dad died. It was really hard, you know? On both of us, but mostly on Dean. Dean idolized the man, had absolute blind faith in him. Afterwards…" Sam shrugged, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. "I thought I was going to lose him, too."

Snyder cleared his throat, trying to break the sudden tension in the room. "So, after your dad died, Dean started building a good relationship with this Bobby, a man I assume is near your father's age?" Sam nodded. "And that's a problem?"

Sam stood, paced the room a few times before stopping to grip the back of the chair. "I didn't notice," he finally said. "I knew they were friends, but I didn't notice."

"Notice…" Snyder prompted. Wow, Sam was far more open than Dean. He could learn a lot here.

"The whole father figure thing!" Sam exploded. "What does he need that for anyway?"

Snyder considered the question. "Well, Sam, there are a lot of reasons Dean may feel he needs a father figure in his life. You just said that he idolized your father, had blind faith in him. I take it you didn't?" When Sam's face darkened, he held up both hands. "No judgments here, Sam. I'm just trying to understand the situation."

Sam shook his head. "No, we didn't exactly get along. The last time we spoke, I tried to pick an argument with him."

"Tell me, Sam. Is there someone you look to for stability in your life? Maybe even guidance occasionally? Someone you know has your best interests at heart and you can depend on unconditionally?" He knew he might be reaching a little with that last bit, but Snyder decided to trust his gut instincts on this one.

"Sure. Dean." The response was automatic, Sam did not even need to think about it. "So?"

"So, Sam, you already have your fill-in, and you've had him all along. Is it so terrible for Dean to need one, too?" Snyder asked, having to look up at his patient who was still standing.

Sam looked a little dazed. "But…he's my brother. That's what brothers do."

Snyder shook his head. "I think I'm starting to see the problem. Sam, you're jealous."

"No, I'm not!" Sam snapped, glaring. He could see the family resemblance in that ice-cold glare.

"It's okay, Sam. That's a perfectly normal response. You clearly recognize just how much your brother means to you, how much you need him, how much you depend on him to always be there for you. And you want to be the same thing for him. Have you considered that maybe it isn't possible for Dean to accept you in that kind of a role?" Snyder's mind raced ahead, attempting to define this for both of them. "Dean is a care-giver. He lives to look after others, which is the reason he adopted Rae in the first place. I understand that you didn't think it was a good idea, considering your nomadic lifestyle."

Sam shook his head again, leaning forward over the back of the chair. "But she grew on me."

"I can tell," Snyder agreed, "you became responsible for her home-schooling and even took on sole responsibility for moving the family here, right?" He waited for Sam to nod before continuing. "You would have to ask Dean, of course, but I suspect he is comfortable with you in the role of younger brother and, from the way he talks about you, best friend. Tell me, how long has he been a father figure to you?"

Stunned, Sam just stared without answering. The tall man slunk around the chair, sinking into it heavily. "Did he, uh, call me his best friend?" His voice sounded hopeful.

"Well, Dean didn't use those exact words, but that was certainly my impression," Snyder replied, hoping this was not breaching his patient's confidence. He checked his watch. "Well, we still have about fifteen minutes. Would you like to talk about your niece?"

"So Dean did tell you about the kidnapping and his nightmare last night?" Sam asked, still looking a bit dazed.

Snyder frowned. "Dean had a nightmare about the kidnapping when Rae was little? What do you think provoked it?"

Sam shook his head. "No, Rae was kidnapped yesterday. So he didn't tell you."

"Is…is…" Snyder stumbled for the right words, this new information hitting him like an out of control freight train.

"She's fine. Didn't even have a nightmare, which we all expected. Dean did instead." Sam leaned his head back against the chair. "He's really going hate that we're both seeing you, you know. I doubt I'll be back, so he'll keep coming." Sam chewed his lower lip. "You want to take the last of my time to talk to him? About yesterday?"

"Sam, here is what I want: I want you to stop blaming yourself for your brother's panic attacks. While I do think you've been a contributing factor, I think it was simply because you had no idea what was going on. Dean feels out of control of his life. Boys are looking at his little girl like she isn't so little any more. You moved them here, he had no say in where you all moved. Actually, it sounded like Rae had a lot more input than he did." He held up a hand to ward off Sam's protest. "And I'm sure he asked for it to be that way, Sam. But my point is, while you're brothers, you are also partners. You're raising this girl together and you need to act like it."

Sam chewed his lip a moment. "Dean has been, lately. He's been backing up whatever I tell her, saying things like 'you heard your uncle.' He even lets me talk to her more than he used to."

"He wasn't letting you two talk?" Snyder asked, wondering just how possessive his other patient was.

"Well, he didn't want us arguing, so anytime he thought we might be disagreeing, Dean stepped in and shut us down." Sam shrugged. "We've talked about that and we're both working on it. And I'm taking his side against the boys. We're trying to figure out how we can threaten a judge's son without being arrested."

Snyder shook his head. That was definitely for another session, they were almost out of time. "Let me ask you one more thing before you leave. When you talk to Rae, how do you refer to Dean? Do you call him Dean, your dad, or Dad?" Snyder asked, wondering why in the world Dean would withhold the situation about Rae. Perhaps it was too recent for him to discuss. He needed to reassess Dean later, before he went home. There was more depth to that one than he initially saw.

Sam frowned, cocking his head to one side. "Uh, I guess usually Dean. Sometimes I say 'your dad'."

"If you don't mind a recommendation? Try calling him her dad a little more often. I suspect they could both use that reinforcement, especially since Dean makes it a point of referring to you as her uncle. Just the fact you're worried about your relationship with your brother is a good, healthy sign. I'm sure you'll find a way to talk to him about it. As for Bobby? Well, try not to let it threaten you. With the way your brother talks about you, I really don't think you have anything to worry about." Snyder stood, offering his hand again. "I'm sorry, Sam, but our time was up about five minutes ago. Looks like I'll have to work late tonight."

Sam stood, took his hand. "Thanks, Doc. Uh, you've been a help." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I doubt I'll be back, I'm sure Dean's going to chew me out over this, but thanks."

"Have a good day, Sam."


	30. Chapter 30

Okay, I felt the need for a little sappiness. Sue me! There will be more action soon – honest! (Man, this chapter was a pain to post! Something's wrong with the document upload again.)

**Chapter 30 **

Sam shoved his hands in his pockets as he entered the reception area. Dean sat on the couch talking on his cell. He glanced up when Sam walked out and waved him over. Curious, Sam walked over quicker than he intended.

"You still have Officer Steve's card?" Dean asked, holding out his hand.

"Sure." Sam dug it out of his wallet, handed it over.

Dean read the number off to whoever was on the phone. "Yes, seriously. This was the cop on the scene, just call him. Tomorrow? No, I can't come in before Monday. Fine, I don't want to come in before Monday. We'll see. Later, Bud." Dean shoved his cell back in his pocket.

"Bud? From the shop?" Sam asked. "He calling to check up on you?"

"Actually, I think he wanted to fire me," Dean said. "You ready?"

Sam nodded, a little speechless that Dean took the attempt to fire him so well. Dean flashed the receptionist a smile before leading the way out. Sam tried to ready himself for the dress-down he would get once they were out of earshot. He took his seat in the Impala, already cringing. The engine did not start. Sam glanced over, found Dean staring at him.

"You want to tell me what that was about?" Dean asked calmly.

Sam rubbed sweaty palms on his jeans. "Not really."

Dean turned on the seat, facing him. "Sam…"

Sam huffed a sigh. "Fine. Something was bothering me and I wanted someone to talk to about it. Happy?"

Dean's brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth pulled down slightly. "You couldn't talk to me about it?"

His hands were just leaking with sweat now, even vigorous rubbing against his jeans was not helping. "Well, it was…kinda…about you."

"About me?" Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Okay, what did I do now?" He sounded resigned, defeated.

"Nothing, I guess. No. Nothing." Sam looked out the window at the low office building. "It was just something stupid bothering me, that's all."

"And you still can't tell me?" Dean demanded. "Look Sam, how am I supposed to fix it if you won't tell me what it is?"

Sam chanced a look at his brother. "There's nothing to fix. It's fine."

"Doesn't sound fine, sounds like whatever-this-is is still bothering you." Dean's eyes narrowed on him.

"Yeah, I guess. But I'll get over it. Really, Dean, it's fine." He shrugged as Dean's hand reached for the ignition. "It's something I should have noticed a long time ago."

Dean's hand froze over the keys, his face turning again to regard Sam. "A long time ago? What the hell are you talking about, Sammy?"

Sam mentally kicked himself. He would have been home-free if he could keep his big mouth shut. "Nothing, Dean. Let's just get back. I'm sure Rae is driving Bobby nuts by now."

Dean cleared his throat, cranking the engine. As they backed out of their parking space, he said, "We have an errand to run first."

"An errand?" Sam glared. "What kind of errand, Dean?"

Dean flashed a smile as he pulled out of the parking lot, causing a sinking feeling in Sam's stomach. Whatever Dean's errand was, he had a bad feeling about it. At first he thought maybe Dean changed his mind or was teasing as they headed home. Then, just before reaching the library, where he might or might not still have a job, Dean turned.

"Are we heading for the school?" Sam demanded. Dean flashed him another grin. Oh, shit. "Dean, why are we going to Rae's school?"

"She's not going back if that asshat of a principal is still there," he declared, pulling into the school parking lot. After parking, Dean turned to look at him. "And you are going to help."

Sam swallowed hard. "What do you expect me to do?"

Dean grinned broadly. "Just stand there looking tall and intimidating. Maybe scowl a little?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "How am I supposed to look intimidating?"

Dean shrugged. "You're tall, lots of people find that intimidating. It'll work. Let's go." His brother hopped out, clearly looking forward to this.

Sam drug himself out of the car, dreading whatever Dean had in mind. It sounded like a really, really bad idea. "Why are we doing this?" he demanded, following in his brother's wake.

"Didn't you hear what Rae told Officer Steve?" Dean asked, dropping back a step to walk beside Sam. "Her principal helped that guy, Ernie, kidnap her."

"He didn't know, Dean," Sam argued.

"He wasn't given a court order, either," Dean argued, his voice taking on a hard edge. "There is no way Rae is stepping foot in this building alone if he's still here."

Sam opened his mouth to argue again, more out of habit than anything, but Dean's argument filtered into his brain and made sense. "Wait," Sam grabbed his brother's shoulder, "we need some kind of plan."

--------------------

Principal Crowder hung up his phone, hand shaking. The school board was reviewing the Sammie Cooper fiasco. How was he supposed to know that the guy was impersonating a Family Services social worker? He had been expecting for Family Services to show up and take the girl. She was clearly deeply traumatized and, absurd English papers aside, it had to be the family's fault. So he forgot about needing a court order. Did his career really need to end over that?

Crowder doodled on his deskpad for a moment. Maybe he should resign? Then he could move to another school district, maybe start over. He sighed, weighing his options. It was entirely possible the school district would not fire him, but unlikely. He was well aware of the fact a few parents called complaining about his inadvertent assistance in the Cooper girl's kidnapping, and if a few knew then word could spread quickly. At least the girl was fine, the officer who came by yesterday had filled him in on what happened.

Who knew that girl's so-called parents were capable of rescuing her from kidnappers. Risky and stupid was what he called it. The police were better trained and equipped for those kinds of situations. They ought to be arrested for endangering a minor that way, not treated with the respect the police officer clearly felt.

His door burst open, slamming against the wall hard enough to crack the plaster. Crowder jumped backwards, his chair rolling into the far wall. Both Mister Coopers barreled into his office, the father in the lead. Oh, why did they have to enroll that girl in his school?

"We need to talk," the father growled as the uncle closed the door. Crowder hoped his assistant outside was not on one of her many breaks and had the intelligence to call the police.

"What the hell were you thinking?" the father demanded, leaning across his desk and the uncle loomed by the closed door, looking terribly imposing. If those two were actually brothers, he would eat his deskpad. The father's fists slammed on his desk sending a shudder through the imitation wood. "I asked you a question," he growled. 

Crowder tried to swallow, but his mouth and throat were exceptionally dry. "I..uh…" All right, he had seen some irate parents in his career, but nothing quite prepared him for this. Dean Cooper looked angry enough to remove his spleen by reaching down his throat and yanking it out bare-handed. When his eyes strayed to the uncle standing guard at his door, he saw they shared the same expression right around the eyes. Well, perhaps they could be related. He tried for a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It was a mistake."

Dean Cooper's eyes widened dramatically. "A mistake? Hear that, Sam? He's sorry, it was just a mistake." 

The uncle, still standing by the door, scoffed loudly in his office. "We could probably sue the school, Dean. Get this idiot fired for sure."

Dean Cooper did not appear pleased with that idea. "Sure, and give all the nutbars out there the idea that it's easy to snatch kids from school." His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Because it is." 

Crowder managed to swallow. "I'm resigning. I hope you'll consider allowing your daughter to continue coming to school."

"Well," Cooper straightened up, "that's a start." He turned to the other one. "Let's go Sam. I'm good." 

"In a minute, Dean." Sam Cooper held the door open for his brother. Dean lifted an eyebrow, but he passed outside, pulling the door closed behind him. Crowder figured Dean was standing guard outside.

Sam Cooper approached. When he spoke, his voice was low and soft so Crowder had to strain to hear. "You got off easy," he said, eyes flashing. "Most people who put Rae in danger don't walk away." Sam tapped his knuckles on Crowder's desk as the principal appreciated just how big this man was. "I hope you were serious about quitting." He turned and left, but not before shooting Crowder a withering glare.

Okay, brothers or not, he had no intention of being here any longer than it would take to write out a letter of resignation. Oh, screw that. Crowder picked up the phone, dialed the school board. He could resign over the phone, that would be faster.

----------------- 

Dean paused before opening the driver's side door to the Impala. "Well? You think that did it?"

Sam grinned. "If he's still here in an hour, I'll be surprised." Sam opened the other door, getting in. 

Dean sat behind the steering wheel, considering their actions. "What else did you say to him, Sammy?" He glanced over as that grin broadened.

"The truth," Sam replied. "That we were letting him off easy." 

"Too easy," Dean grumbled, starting the car. "So, what should you have noticed a long time ago?"

Sam groaned. "Come on, Dean. Just let it go."

Dean frowned. "If it were me saying that, would you let it go?"

Sam wanted to argue, but the truth was that he would not let it go, no matter how sincerely Dean asked. "Dean, I'm trying real hard here not to upset you. Can't you just let it go?" 

"So it will upset me?" He swung the big car into the library's parking lot, stopping across three parking spaces. Dean turned to face his brother. "Okay, Sam, spill." He motioned with one hand.

Sam looked out the windshield at the library. "Maybe I should go in and explain?"

"Sam!" Dean snapped, relieved when his brother's head spun to look at him. "Focus!"

"Dean, I just don't want to…" 

"Well, you're upsetting me with all this trying not to upset me crap. As a matter of fact, I…I…" Dean lifted a hand, clutched at his chest and rolled his eyes back.

"Oh, god! Dean! Dean!" He felt Sam grab his shoulders.

"God, you're easy," Dean quipped, dropping the hand from his chest. "So what about me has been bothering you? I assume it wasn't just the panic attacks?"

Sam released him, leaning back against the passenger door. His brother's breathing was labored and his eyes wide. Well, Dean hadn't meant to scare him quite that much. 

"You…you're a jerk," Sam finally breathed, eyes still bugging out.

"Yep," Dean replied with a nod, feeling just a touch guilty over Sam's overreaction. It wasn't like Sam to react quite that strongly. "So, what's the problem? You know, other than the fact this must be your time of the month?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "Just don't do that again. Even as a joke." Dean waited while his brother took some deep breaths. "Agreed? I tell you, and you swear you'll never pull that again."

Sam looked a little too intense for Dean's liking, meaning he had really scared his little brother. "Fine," he replied with a nod. He figured it was the least he could do for scaring Sam that much.

"I, uh," Sam stared out the window again. "This is going to sound really stupid."

"So what else is new?" Dean teased, hoping Sam wouldn't back out now.

"I, uh," Sam took a deep breath, "I noticed that you seemed a lot more relaxed since Bobby arrived. And I guess, well, Doc Snyder said I was…uh…" Sam mumbled something. 

"Doc Snyder said you were what, Sam?" Dean demanded, alarmed.

Sam heaved a great sigh before looking at him. "Jealous."

The laugh escaped before Dean realized it was even there. "Jealous?" His laughter filled the car as he pounded on the steering wheel.

"Uh, Dean?" Sam's voice cut through his laughing. Dean tried to stop, he really did, but it was so absurd. He held up a hand, needing Sam to give him a moment because he really couldn't speak yet. After a few more chest wracking guffaws, Dean managed to rein it in. He was not sure what actually caused it in the first place, but it was much harder to stop than it was to start. 

"Okay," Dean wiped the tears from his eyes, stifling the lingering chuckles, "tell me, princess, why are you jealous?"

"Why is it so funny, Dean?" Sam demanded, looking angry now. "I mean, you can tell Bobby when your panic attacks really started and you lied to me about. You let Bobby call you off that kidnapper before you could actually kill him. I doubt you would have even heard me. And…"

"Sam!" Dean interrupted before his brother could really jump on that train of thought. Because when Sam got carried away it wasn't by wild horses, it was by one of those Japanese bullet trains going a hundred and fifty miles per hour. "First of all," he pointed an accusing finger in his brother's face, "you didn't say a damn thing when I was taking care of Ernie. Second, I did listen to your idea and let you check out the neighboring apartment. You think I take just anyone's opinion? Do you honestly believe I would have let Bobby pick where we moved?" He dropped his hand, studying Sam's face. "And since when didn't you like Bobby?"

"It's not that I don't like him, Dean," Sam looked flustered. "Rae thinks it's cool."

Okay, another left-field comment from the master. "Rae thinks what is cool?" 

"That, uh, you think of Bobby as a stand-in for Dad. You know," Sam studied his hands intently, "like a father figure or something."

Now it was Dean's turn to feel uncomfortable. He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering when it was that someone rented out a billboard and posted all of his innermost thoughts on it. He freaking hated therapy. "I never called him a father figure," he replied softly. "I wouldn't do that." 

Sam peered up through his bangs. "But he is, isn't he? You know, it…" Sam stared at him a long moment before continuing, "it doesn't mean you don't care about Dad anymore."

Dean felt the words stab, twisting his insides. He looked away, at anything that wasn't Sam. Losing Mom, losing Dad, those were wounds that could never heal. "No?" he whispered. He had been fighting with the echoes of that disloyalty for years now. "Why not?" 

"Because Rae said so." Dean did turn to look at his brother now, to make sure he wasn't being teased. This would be a hell of a time to tease. "And I think she would know," Sam finished with a nod.

"Guess so," Dean replied numbly. "She's a good kid, huh?"

Sam lifted his head, smiling. "She's a great kid, Dean."

"Why don't you go see if you still have a job?" he motioned to the library.

"Sure."

He felt the car move and the door close as he stared out at the blue sky. His cheeks felt strange, so he wiped away the wetness there. He shook his head, wondering again what he did to deserve this family. Rae's words from all those years ago resounded in his head, that it must have been something really good.


	31. Chapter 31

Big thanks to those of you who have stuck with this fic run-amok. Now, back to that plot!!

**Chapter 31**

Dean pushed open their apartment door, wondering what Bobby and Rae had been up to all this time. He found them on the couch with his photo albums and could not resist the grin that spread across his face, especially when Rae looked up with that light in her eyes.

"Hey, Dad!" She tossed the album into Bobby's lap, running to greet them. "How did it go?"

"Eh," Dean shrugged, "no problem." He hugged her back.

"What took you so long?" Rae demanded, pulling away from the embrace. "You two have been gone for hours!"

"What's wrong?" Sam asked from over his shoulder. "You and Gramps not getting along?"

Dean cast a look over his shoulder at his brother. Sam looked amused, so he decided to take it the way it sounded, as teasing. Sam was trying, just like he was.

"She got bored with Sam's research, so we've been looking at Dean's pictures," Bobby said from the couch, holding up one of the albums. "I didn't know you had so many, Dean."

Dean shrugged, moving into the room. "Find anything?" he asked.

"Yep. You and Rae are very photogenic." Bobby replied, no hint that he was kidding.

Dean rolled his eyes, knowing how Bobby was. "The research?"

"Oh. That." Bobby shrugged. "Well, the librarian was definitely murdered."

He heard Sam's sharp intake of air that mirrored what he felt. "What? Are you sure?" Sam demanded.

Bobby nodded, setting both albums on what passed for a coffee table. "Come here." He nodded his head toward the kitchen.

They followed close on the older hunter's heels. Bobby had the copies of the autopsy report out along with a list of poisons and their residual affects on the body. One was circled. Bobby tapped a finger on it. "This one makes the victim suffer a vicious heart attack, which pretty much always results in death. I'd say that was used on your librarian."

"Wonder why?" Rae asked, leaning in from the other side of the table. "You don't think it was because she was dating a married guy, do you?"

Dean cocked an eyebrow at her. "What makes you think that?"

Rae shrugged. "Amy's idea. Oh, and…" she shuffled through the papers for a moment. "Here. This letter found in her apartment makes it look like she was at least seeing someone."

Dean held it up for Sam to see. "What do you think? Salt and burn, just to be safe?"

Sam shrugged. "There haven't been any deaths at the school. She could just be a restless spirit. Maybe we could help her cross over?"

Dean sighed. Why couldn't it ever be easy? "Cross over? You serious? Like that chick who ran over the farmer?" He rubbed a hand over his head. "Let's salt and burn, just to be safe. No problems then."

"Can't," Bobby declared, shuffling through the papers again. "Looks like she was cremated."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Just like that chick who couldn't drive. Can't it ever be easy?"

"What's the fun in that?" Bobby asked, stacking the papers.

"But what would be keeping her around? That woman, Molly, it was love that kept her here." Sam said, taking the papers from Bobby. "This letter," he held up the page, "doesn't really sound like a woman in love."

Dean chuckled. "Well, Sammy, you ought to know." The glare he received was SO worth it. His little brother could be such a woman sometimes. He took the paper out of Sam's hand. It seemed trivial before, so he never bothered to read it. Dean skimmed the letter. It still looked trivial. "So?" he asked.

"That's my point, Dean," Sam laid the paper on the table, pointed out the single line that probably referred to a man in the librarian's life. "If she were really in love, the whole letter would be about him."

"So, whoever he is, he can't be the reason for her sticking around," Dean reasoned, starting to see where Sam was coming from. "Then what?"

"Good question."

Dean shot his brother a look. "Thanks."

"Well," Bobby read over it again, "if we can figure that out, then we'll know how to get rid of her. Assuming she's a threat in the first place."

"There's only one teacher left at the school who knew her," Dean informed them, taking a seat at the table.

"Who, Dean?" Sam pulled out the chair next to him.

Dean cleared his throat. "Uh, Miss Grimmault."

Sam's head dropped.

"Oh, shit," Rae mumbled. "Does this mean I have to start talking to her?"

Dean shook his head. "Dunno, kiddo. According to the current librarian, Elly here and Miss Grimmault were best friends."

Rae rolled her eyes. "So it's supposed to be fun when it's not easy?" She sighed. "You have a strange idea of fun there, Gramps."

Bobby chuckled. "This from a girl who likes reading the dictionary."

"Well," she protested, "words are interesting."

"What's wrong with reading the dictionary?" Sam demanded.

"Okay, okay," Dean held up his hands, "let's not go there. Back to the library chick." His eyes darted to Bobby. "You know Bobby, you've never met Miss Grimmault. Maybe you could talk to her."

"Yeah, and you're about the same age, too," Rae piped in, grinning. Dean nudged her to shut her up, before she could go any further.

----------------

Bobby might have to shoot Dean. Or strangle him. There had to be a way to inflict some serious pain without killing the boy. Was this Dean's way of telling him he needed a date?

Bobby sat in the coffee shop Sam recommended, waiting for Rae's bitchy English teacher to arrive. Dean set up a blind date with her through the librarian up at the school. He shifted uneasily in his chair, wondering how the hell he could bring up her deceased best friend without making it too obvious he was not interested in dating.

A woman near his age walked in, hair short and perfectly coifed, dress pressed and sharp, intelligent eyes that scanned the shop. When her gaze settled on him, a thin frown creased her face and Bobby regretted not wearing the new ballcap Dean bought for him. She approached him, stopping just at the edge of the table. "Bobby Singer?"

He jumped to his feet. "Yes, ma'am. Miss Grimmault?"

"It's Judy," she replied, sliding into the chair opposite him.

"Can…can I get you a coffee or something?" Bobby asked, taking in those warm, dark eyes. Why didn't Dean mention what a looker she was?

-----------------

Dean checked his watch. Again. Four hours? How much coffee could they drink, anyway?

"Relax, Dean. It's Bobby." Sam admonished, eyes glancing over the laptop at him. "He'd call if there were any trouble."

"But what could take four hours?" Dean demanded. "I mean, he's meeting the bitch. They couldn't possibly have that much to talk about. I figured thirty, forty-five minutes tops to get the information."

Sam rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the laptop. A deck of playing cards landed with a pop on the table. Looking up, he saw Rae's smiling face. He took the cards out of the box, nodding to another chair and started dealing. Rae sat down, watching his well-practiced hands. The three of them were in a large discussion over when it was best to bluff when Bobby came in.

Dean jumped to his feet, relieved the old man appeared fine. The odd grin on Bobby's face was slightly disconcerting, though. "Bobby? How'd it go?"

"Fine. Fine." Bobby's head bobbed, his eyes sparkling.

"The librarian, Bobby? What did you find out?" Sam asked, standing near Dean's elbow.

"Oh, right. The librarian." Bobby made his way into the kitchen, taking a seat on a barstool at the counter. Rae retrieved a beer from the fridge for him. Bobby grinned at her and popped the top off before continuing. "Dean was right, Judy and Elly were best friends. It seems Elly was seeing someone right before she died, but she wouldn't tell Judy who."

"Uh," Dean sank back down to his seat at the table, "who the hell is Judy?"

Bobby cleared his throat, looking a little uncomfortable. "Miss Grimmault."

"Go on, Bobby." Sam shot him a warning look, so Dean clamped his mouth shut. Four hours, huh? Bobby was a dog!

"I'm starting to think Rae's little friend might be right. Judy thinks our librarian was seeing a married man, too." Bobby took a swig of beer. "But she doesn't know who."

Dean sighed. "Back to square one."

"Not entirely, Dean. Now we know Elly was murdered and she was seeing a married man. Maybe if we can solve her murder, her spirit will be at rest," Sam suggested.

"Okay, Monk. Where do we start?" Dean demanded.

Sam shrugged. "Well, we could always trying asking her."

Dean stared at his brother, wide-eyed. "You're really losing it. You know that?"

--------------

Okay, it was official. Sam was crazy. His brother needed to be locked in one of those rubber rooms so he couldn't hurt himself. Here they were, on a Saturday night, watching the school and waiting for nightfall. Sam kept saying how they were lucky it would be a full moon tonight so they could see better. Dean figured he could see well enough, he could see that Sam lost it. Past tense. Probably no getting it back.

He thought maybe he spotted that guy, Sarah's ex, tailing them from the apartment. After sitting behind the library for a couple of hours and no sign of him, Dean thought maybe it was just nerves getting the best of him. Rae sat in the back next to Bobby, practicing her Latin. Bobby's Latin was impeccable, Dean often wondered if he taught Dad at some point. Sam read through some books looking for an appropriate summoning spell they could use at the site of the haunting rather than over the grave, since there wasn't one.

Dean rubbed a hand over his steering wheel, wishing the sun would sink already so they could get on with this stupid plan. Talk to a ghost. He shook his head. It didn't get any more desperate than this. All the hair on the back of his neck stood out and he had the distinct feeling of being watched. Dean looked cautiously around.

"Dad?" Rae's voice broke from her studies. "Is someone out there?" A glance in his rearview mirror told him the she looked as worried as he felt.

"Dean?" Sam asked from beside him.

Dean shook his head. "Not sure." He got out and checked the gun tucked firmly in his waistband before checking the area. Nothing. Probably just nerves. It had been a couple of months since they had to do anything like this, maybe he was slowing down.

He sat back down behind the wheel, slamming his door closed. "Nothing," he said with a shrug.

"Didn't seem like nothing," Rae mumbled from the backseat. Dean silently agreed.


	32. Chapter 32

Well, I did promise some action, didn't I? And an explanation behind the stalker/ex-boyfriend, and the librarian. So - here it is!! Thanks to everyone following this little fic and to _**Brigid Tanner **_for giving me that swift kick when I fall behind on updates, and for proofing these chapters. Those of you who enjoyed Lil' Sammy, hotshow and I are working on a non-amnesia sequel called Murphy's Law. It will start posting once this Sammie Rae fic is concluded in a couple more chapters. (Though I do have an idea for one after she's married and how they introduce George to the world she grew up in. Ya know - if any of you want to see that.)

**Chapter 32**

Sam covered his brother as Dean picked the lock on the side door to Rae's school. When the door creaked open, he motioned to Rae and Bobby hiding in the shadows. They slipped through right behind Dean. Sam followed, taking rear guard. Rae and Dean had both been to the library before, so all he could do was follow. Partway down the hall, Sam could have sworn he heard the door open again. He hissed to Bobby and made a motion indicating he needed to double back. Bobby agreed with a jerk of his whiskered jaw as Sam dropped back.

Sam held his pistol up, at the ready, as he approached the outer door. It was closed, just like they left it, but something still bothered him. Something just seemed…off. Sam inspected the area and all he could find was a bit of mud with a leaf stuck in it near the door. Any one of them could have tracked it in even though they did not cross any grassy areas, preferring to stick to the pavement so they would not leave footprints. Sam frowned. There was something wrong here, if he could just put his finger on it.

A dark, blurry form bounded out of the shadows, crashing into him. Sam felt himself propelled backward, slamming into the far wall. All the wind knocked out of him, he struggled to pull in a breath as he twisted in the grip of whoever or whatever had him pinned. In the light streaming through the glass doors, he could make out a snarling, angry face. Unfortunately, the face was not human, at least not completely. It had human features but was covered in fur and sported jagged, wicked teeth. Shit, he had to pick a full moon for this, didn't he?

Gunshots ricocheted in the hall, driving the beast away from him. Grateful, Sam took a deep breath and looked over at his brother's face. Gone was any indecision or anxiety that had been so prevalent lately. Dean was all business now. The creature darted off, running at superhuman speeds.

"Great," Dean growled, standing in front of Sam, "and me without any silver bullets. How about you?"

Sam took several deep breaths, shaking his head. "Didn't think we'd need any."

"You call that being quiet!" Bobby's harsh whisper demanded as he and Rae ran toward them. "What the hell happened?"

"Pretty sure it was a werewolf," Dean said, checking his clip. "And we don't have any silver on us."

"What about in the car?" Bobby asked, heading for the door.

Dean dug his keys out, tossing them to Bobby. "Check in the trunk. I ought to have a couple of clips in there."

"Right. Back in a minute." Bobby raced out the door at a full run.

"Hope he makes it back," Dean muttered, checking the shotgun he carried in the other hand.

Sam furrowed his brow at his brother. "Afraid the werewolf will attack him outside?"

Dean paused, giving him a strange look. "Didn't think about that. Shit, Sammy, go out there and cover his ass." Dean nodded toward the outside door. "Rae and I will wait here."

Sam hesitated a moment before heading outside. He saw Bobby dart across the street toward the library. Standing in the sidewalk in the shadow cast by an old oak, Sam decided to give Bobby about two minutes before going after him. Bobby might be an old fart, but he certainly knew this business. Probably even better than Dad did, Sam found himself admitting. But Dad had more nerve than any two hunters they had ever met put together. Sam checked his watch in the dim light. Thirty seconds. That left Bobby with a minute and a half to…

"Dad!" Rae's scream, so familiar to Sam he heard it in his dreams now, sent a frozen spike through his spine. He crashed back through the school door. No one was in sight.

"Dean! Dean!" Sam shouted, desperately trying to figure out what happened. The werewolf must have come back and Rae screamed a warning, but then – where were they? "Dean!" he screamed into the dark, empty building, his heart racing. "Rae!"

"Sam!" Dean's bellow echoed through the halls. Sam tried to follow it, but it seemed to come from all directions at once.

"Where are you?" Sam shouted, straining to hear something, anything.

"Library!" Came his brother's answering shout.

"Sam!" This shout was closer, right behind him as a matter of fact. Sam whirled around in time to see a clip arcing through the air toward him. He snatched it from its path, ejecting the one in his pistol and replacing it with the one loaded with silver bullets. Every time he used silver bullets, he thought of the Lone Ranger. Sam shook his head to clear it of distracting thoughts.

"Where are they?" Bobby demanded, breathing heavily.

"Library. This way." Sam headed up a ramp from the commons area. Ramps always led to the center of the school, and libraries were always in the center. He used to think it was symbolic, that education was centered around literacy, or that the library was the repository of the school's knowledge. Now he just hoped that theory still held true.

Bobby's breathing turned ragged as they charged up the ramp. Sam spared a single worried, backward glance as he raced ahead. Now he understood what Dean meant about hoping Bobby would make it, but now was not the time to worry about it. Sam charged ahead, rounding the next corner at top speed.

A furry shadow loomed over Dean, who was sprawled on the floor. Dean was not attempting to move, just staring at his attacker with a surprised look plastered across his brother's face. Sam pointed his gun at what he assumed was a werewolf, stepping steadily and slowly closer. His eyes flicked over his brother trying to make sure there were no bites. One side of Dean's face was covered in blood, from the gash marks on his temple Sam figured it was from the claws. No bites, he thought to himself, just no bites.

The werewolf sniffed the air, its head tilting toward Sam. As it took in Sam, he saw its eyes widen and heard it snarl. He was the target? What did he ever do to it? They had only been in town a couple of months. Sam stepped back, aiming for the creature's heart. As it lunged, Sam heard Dean's shout of "Sam!" He fired, hoping to hit close to his target. It landed on him, claws ripping into one shoulder. Sam tried to fight it off, wondering what was keeping his brother.

"He's my brother!" Dean's voice filled the hall. "Let me go!"

There was no time to process what he heard, Sam had a fight for his life on his hands and he was pretty sure this creature had no intention of loosing. It wanted him dead and to eat his heart. Sam struggled in its grip. He forgot how strong werewolves were. Why did he think it was a good idea to do this during a full moon again? And where was Dean? Sam managed to throw a glance toward his brother. Dean was still on the floor in nearly the same position as before, but he was yelling something that Sam could not hear.

As he barely managed to avoid the creature's sharp teeth, Sam saw another blur from the corner of his vision. Dean's body flew by, knocking the werewolf away. Sam took a deep breath, shaking himself. He raised his gun, but the werewolf was gone and there was a red streak from the place Dean had been lying to the point he rested against the wall now.

"How bad?" Sam asked hauling his brother to his feet.

With a groan, Dean said, "Not too bad."

"Liar." Sam offered his gun. Dean waved it away.

"Dean!" Bobby wheezed. "What happened?"

Dean leaned heavily against the wall. "Werewolf. That way." He pointed a hand red with blood.

"Damn, Dean," Bobby stepped closer. "You all right?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Just get it."

Sam grasped his brother's shoulder, attempting to force him down to the floor. "Just rest here and try not to bleed out before we get back."

"Over there." Dean pointed at the spot he was in when Sam came barreling up. Sam supported most of his brother's weight as he helped Dean back.

"Why here?" he demanded, settling Dean on the floor.

"So I can talk to Elly. Now go." Dean leaned back against the wall, taking a deep breath. "Go!"

Sam, with a single worried glance back, rushed in the direction the werewolf left. As he raced down the corridor, Sam remembered this was a school. The creature could hide in any of the classrooms. He slowed, eyes scanning the floor. It left some mud when it came in, maybe it left another sign somewhere. Bobby seemed to have the same idea. Bobby motioned to the doors on the right. Sam nodded, he would take the doors on the left.

No sign of the werewolf. Nothing. Worried about Dean and Rae Sam headed back, Bobby close on his heels. They found Dean in the same spot, but now Rae stood guard holding Dean's shotgun.

"Did you get it?" she demanded.

Sam heaved a sigh, knowing how she and Dean would react. "It got away."

"Jeez, Sammy," Dean grunted, standing. "Can't even catch one little werewolf without me?"

Sam rushed to Dean's side, determined to help him out to the car. "Where did it get you, Dean?"

Dean stumbled, leaning harder into him. Sam caught the extra weight smoothly, not wanting Rae to notice. Dean chuckled, the way his brother always did when trying to make light so Rae wouldn't worry. "Barely a scratch. Nothing to worry about."

"Just the same," Sam insisted, "I'm driving and you're going to let Bobby check you out when we get there."

Dean scoffed, still letting Sam take a lot of his weight. "Yeah, like you'd be able to stop him."

Sam looked over to Bobby, who cocked his head to one side. "You either," Sam snapped to his brother.

Now Dean chuckled as they pushed through the outer door. "But I know better, Sammy." Dean grinned brightly.

"'bout time," Bobby grumbled behind them.

Sam kept a sharp eye out, expecting the werewolf to jump out of every shadow. The car was exactly the way they left it. Even so, Sam had Bobby check it out before he would allow Dean and Rae near it. He put Dean and Bobby in the backseat, forcing Rae to sit up front with him.

"Bobby?" Sam demanded as he pulled into the apartment parking lot.

"Help me get him inside," Bobby replied. Sam felt a surge of relief. That meant Bobby thought he could handle it, Dean didn't need a hospital.

"I don't need any help," Dean grumbled, his voice just as strong as ever. Of course, Sam had fallen for that more than once. Not this time.

Exiting the car, Sam tucked his gun in his waistband. He wrenched the back door open with more force than necessary, reached in and hauled his brother out. Sam wrapped an arm around Dean's waist, knowing he would have to support most of his brother's weight. Rae ran ahead to the door then waited just outside it, bouncing nervously.

"Sam? What's she doing?" Bobby whispered.

"She's not allowed to go in first," Sam explained patiently. "Dean's rule."

"Damn straight," Dean mumbled, head heavy against Sam's shoulder. "Never know what's inside."

"Dean, anyone ever tell you you're paranoid?" Bobby asked, moving closer to help.

"It's not being paranoid," Dean took a deep breath, "when everything really is out to get you." He released Sam to grab Bobby by the shoulder. "Sam, you check it out. Bobby and I will stand guard at the door."

Sam rolled his eyes, taking out his gun. "Fine." He saw Bobby take out the other handgun as he unlocked the door.

Sam entered their apartment. It was dark, they turned out all the lights before leaving. Everything seemed okay, but Sam had that prickly feeling on the back of his neck again and that sense of something being off. He flipped on the den light with his free hand, surveying the room cautiously. The door to his bedroom was ajar. Sam frowned, they kept that door closed at all times. The weapons bag was in there.

Sam kept close to the wall, making his way toward the hall. He glanced back at the door before making his move. Dean stood there, the other handgun loaded with silver bullets in his hand. Dean gave him a quick nod. If it weren't for the blood drying on his brother's face, right now Sam would swear he had not been injured.

Using his foot, Sam kicked open the door. Nothing. He peered around the corner, gun at the ready. Dean had his back. Even injured, Dean was more reliable than anyone else Sam could ever name. Even Dad. At least Dean was always there when he needed someone to watch his back.

Sam reached out to flip on the bedroom light. A thin, sickly yellow light so typical of motels and apartments flooded the small room. He scanned the room, looking for anything amiss. His eyes rested in the far corner where there was a shadow that did not look right. Sam raised his gun, pointing it at the shadow. A low growl emanated from the corner, followed by a blur of teeth and fur.

The gun kicked in his hand two, three times, before the shadowy blur of fur crashed into him, knocking Sam into the wall. Sam looked up into those wicked teeth and the odd thought about what it would feel like to be torn apart alive flashed through his mind. He heard two more gunshots and the werewolf slumped over him. Sam shoved it away. It landed with a heavy thud on the floor.

He stood, using the wall for support.

"Sammy, you okay?" Dean demanded.

Sam could not tear his eyes away from the still form on the floor. The fur disappeared, replaced with natural human skin and features. It was the guy he caught watching them, his stalker, probably Sarah's ex. Well, this was not going to look good.

---------------

Bobby finished doctoring the knife with the dead guy's fingerprints and Dean's blood just before the cops arrived. Sam's shoulder was patched up and under a fresh shirt. Those wounds were mostly superficial anyway. He was more worried about that blow Dean took to the head.

Interesting cover story Dean came up with. They claimed that Sam's stalker broke in and held Dean and Rae at knifepoint and proceeded to torture Dean in order to learn where Sam was. The fact the guy was naked? Well, that pretty much summed up why Dean was so worried and tried to keep all the stalker's attention away from Rae, not even shouting or screaming as he was being tortured.

The paramedics patched Dean up on the scene and said he did not have a concussion. They wanted him to go to the hospital, but naturally the stubborn boy refused. Bobby considered trying to force him, but after seeing the stricken look on Rae's face at the mention of the hospital, he decided against it.

Bobby closed the door as the last of the police and paramedics left. "Hell of a cover story there, Dean."

Dean chuckled from the couch. "Worked, didn't it?"

Bobby shook his head, that boy was really a piece of work. "How's the shoulder, Sam?"

"Fine, Bobby. Thanks." Sam sank into the couch next to his brother. "Dean? How are you feeling?"

"You heard the paramedics, Sam. It's fine." Dean protested.

"Actually, what they said was that they would like to give you a saline IV, to help replace the blood you lost." Sam glared at his brother, not that Bobby blamed him.

Dean's head whipped around, searching the apartment. "Where's Rae?"

"Bathroom," Sam snapped. "You should be in the hospital."

Dean scowled. "You know how that freaks her out," he hissed.

Their argument was interrupted by a scream from the bathroom. Since he was still standing, Bobby beat the brothers to the bathroom door. "Rae! What's wrong?" He pounded on the door, his hand mimicking the way his heart pounded against his chest.

The door cracked open and Rae's shocked face appeared. "I need to call Amy's mom."

"What for?" Dean demanded, pulling him aside.

The door closed, one hand still sticking out. "Phone."

He watched Dean's face redden and the vein in the unbandaged temple throb. Sam's hand thrust between them, slapping a cell into her outstretched hand. Rae's hand disappeared followed by the bathroom door slamming in their collective faces.

"Back up, Bobby." Dean took a step back, foot raised in that classic door-kicking-in mode.

"Wait, Dean." Sam pulled him back. "Maybe it's, uh, a girl thing."

Dean turned, his face pure confusion. "Girl thing? She's thirteen. What kind of girl thing?"

Sam shrugged. "I'll ask Karen later." Bobby had the distinct feeling that Sam knew exactly what kind of 'girl thing,' but did not want to tell his brother. Looking at Dean's still beet-red face, Bobby couldn't say he blamed Sam.


	33. Chapter 33

Okay, just one more chapter in the plans after this. As always, thanks to everyone following and those of you kind enough to review. Thanks to _**Brigid Tanner**_ for proofing.

**Chapter 33**

The knock on the front door was not completely unexpected. As the only uninjured adult here, Bobby jumped up from their impromptu poker game to answer the door. A woman with thick glasses and dark hair burst into the apartment, followed by a girl who could be a clone.

"Where?" she demanded, standing in the middle of the den, a plastic bag dangling from one hand.

"Bathroom," Sam answered, motioning toward the hall. The woman rushed off, the girl close behind. They heard her knock and the bathroom door open. As they sat around the table listening intently, they could make out the sound of talking but nothing specific.

"Any ideas?" Bobby asked, searching their faces for clues. Both boys shook their heads, but he was sure Sam was holding back.

"So," Sam broke the silent tension, "I was thinking about the holidays. How about Thanksgiving here and Christmas at Bobby's?"

Dean's expression was almost comical. "Dude, if you expect me to cook a turkey…"

"They sell pre-cooked dinners, Dean. With all the sides and everything. What do you say, Bobby?" Sam stared at him.

Oh, so that's what the puppy dog look is, Bobby thought. No wonder Dean called it 'deadly.' He shared a look with Dean, who clearly thought this was a done deal. "Sounds good," he said, wondering what the hell was going on in that bathroom.

After what felt like an eternity, during which Sam actually beat both of them in a couple hands of poker, Karen blew into the kitchen.

"She's fine," she said. "I just had to explain a few things."

"What things?" Dean demanded, tapping his cards against the table.

Karen grinned, so it couldn't be that bad. "Your little girl is growing up."

Dean's hand froze. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"She got her first period!" Karen squealed. "And she called me!" The woman actually beamed about it. Had these boys tested her for possession yet? "Oh, Sam, I think this makes up for dinner. We can still take the girls bowling sometime, though. Well, it's late. Amy and I should be going." She looked back over her shoulder. "Amy!"

"In a minute!"

"Now!" Karen marched to the front door. She held it open, waiting impatiently. Amy ran through the apartment, darting out the door. "Bye! Call if you have any questions." She waved, shutting the door behind her.

Stunned, Bobby looked to Dean. How the hell were they supposed to react to that? Dean stared at the closed door for a long moment. Then he laid both hands flat on the table, staring down at the woodgrain between them. With a deep breath, Dean began to methodically beat his forehead against the table.

"Dean, you're going to start bleeding again," Sam put out a long arm to hold Dean back from the table. Sam received one of those nasty glares for his trouble. Directed at anyone else, Bobby was pretty sure a beating would follow it.

Following that venomous glare was Dean digging through his pockets and pulling out his bottle of loopy pills. He poured one out in his palm, then looked long and hard at each of them, like he wasn't sure if he should do this in front of them. Then he poured out two more.

"Here," Dean handed each of them one of those loopy pills, "you put it under your tongue, like this."

"What for?" Bobby asked.

"Gets into your bloodstream faster," Dean explained.

"Good." Bobby watched Sam pop the little pill under his tongue, felt his eyes growing wider at the sight. Okay, both these boys were far more stressed than he figured. Bobby handed the pill back, which Dean put away.

"So, Rae's birthday here, huh?" Bobby asked, trying to draw them back to reality. So they didn't know when that 'woman stuff' started? Neither did he. Honestly, how many guys did, anyway? Thirteen seemed really young for that, but he supposed that was part of the whole puberty package. That sucked.

Dean chuckled. Damn, those pills worked fast. "Haven't even thought about it yet. Sam?"

A goofy grin spread across Sam's face. "Bowling?"

Dean chuckled again. "No more loopy pills for you, dude."

The sound of a throat clearing drew their attention. They all turned to see Rae, looking very embarrassed. "I'm, uh, going to bed now."

"Nah." Dean waved it off. "Come show old Gramps how you can kick my ass in poker." He patted the empty chair next to him.

Her face reddened as she looked away.

"You know," Bobby gathered the cards, shuffling, "the worst beating I ever took in a game, not counting you boys' daddy, was from a woman named Joy Beth. Whew, she could handle those cards." He watched as she took her seat, still not looking up. "Want to deal?" He pushed the deck toward her.

She still did not look up, but she took the cards. With hands that betrayed the fact she had been handling cards at least since she was six, Rae dealt out the next hand. Bobby figured whatever embarrassment or insecurity plaguing her right now would be driven out by a few root beers and Dean letting her beat him at poker. As the evening turned into early morning, Bobby started to doubt the fact Dean was letting her beat him. He figured she actually could read her daddy well enough to know when Dean was bluffing. Considering neither he nor Sam could do that, it was almost frightening.

"Dean?" Sam asked, picking up his new hand, which he had no hope of winning. "Why didn't the werewolf get you? You know, when it had you pinned by the library?"

"Dude," Dean discarded two cards, "the werewolf never had me pinned. That was you."

"Dean." How could Sam put so much demand into one word? "If it wasn't the werewolf, then…"

"Elly," Dean said sharply, raising the bet by five M&Ms. "She's the reason Rae is safe and sound, too."

"How's that, Dean?" Bobby demanded. Was that boy actually claiming that a ghost saved a thirteen year old girl? And here he was, without his holy water beer. Bobby had to start taking his own beer with him when he visited.

Rae met Dean's raise. "All I know is, we were waiting for Uncle Sam and you, then suddenly I was flying through the air. Dad came charging after me, but he was thrown against the wall." She rolled her eyes. "Again. Really, Dad, you need a new occupation."

"Shut up." Dean laid his hand down. Full house. Rae grinned. Four of a kind. "I said, shut up," he repeated, watching her scoop up the M&Ms.

"So, Elly protected the both of you?" Sam leaned forward, head turning between the two. "Seriously?"

Dean cleared his throat, gathering up the cards. "Seriously. Now, are we playing poker or what?"

"Dean?" Bobby reached out, put his hand over the cards dean was trying to shuffle. "Did you find out what's keeping her here?"

Dean looked up, met his eyes. "The kids." He shrugged. "She loves the kids. Won't leave them."

"I like her. Wish my English teacher was more like her. Hard to believe they were best friends." Rae drummed her fingers slowly on the table, eyelids only half open.

"I can believe it." Bobby heard the words come out of his mouth. When the three Winchesters stared at him in disbelief, he shifted uncomfortably. "You gonna deal or wait until my ass falls asleep?"

-----------------

Bobby waited until Rae was sound asleep before slipping out. The sun threatened to rise soon, but somebody needed to go clean the blood up before that poor librarian came in Monday morning. Besides, he figured those boys needed some time to themselves. Things were changing pretty rapidly in their little family, and he figured if Dean was not handling it well then maybe Sam wasn't either. And he wanted a good look at this friendly ghost for himself.

He found the side door to the school unlocked, just like they left it. Bobby hefted his cleaning supplies with one hand and his bag of work supplies in the other. Sam offered to find a janitor's uniform for him, but he figured even if he was caught not many people would doubt his overalls. There were advantages to dressing this way.

Glad he thought to bring along Dean's shotgun as well, Bobby slowly made his way to the library where they found Dean. Yep, there were the blood streaks across the floor, but first things first.

From his pocket, Bobby drew out the summoning spell Sam found. From the bag, he took out the other ingredients he needed, including a few candles. Hello, Elly.

-------------------

A knock on the door woke him from a good, solid sleep. Dean dragged his eyelids open, rolling out of bed. Dressed in just a t-shirt and boxers, he answered the door. That was the good thing about being half-awake and living most of your life on the road, not embarrassing easily.

A woman stood just outside, folder in hand. Now what? "Yeah?"

"Mister Cooper? Would you be Dean or Samuel?" she asked, checking her file.

Dean leaned against the doorjamb, running a hand over his face. "Ozzy."

She frowned, eyes scanning her file. "I don't seem to have an Ozzy listed. Is that short for anything?"

"Osborne." Dean glared. It was way too early for this crap. A glance at her watch told him it was nearly nine in the morning. Okay, so it wouldn't feel so damned early if he hadn't been up all night getting the pants beat off him in poker by a thirteen year old girl.

"Oh." Her eyes snapped up to his. "You must be Dean, then. Your file says you can be sarcastic and caustic."

"My file?" He raised one eyebrow at her. "And you are?"

"Rose Brown," she held out a hand, "your new caseworker."

"What happened to Marty?" he asked, ignoring the hand.

"Suspended. We're not supposed to discuss our cases with family or friends. Coworkers are fine, though." The hand was still outstretched.

"You know, my brother keeps telling me you people are supposed to call first, make appointments. Why do you people keep just showing up here?" He lifted a hand, as though he wanted to shake her hand, then made a point of bypassing it to scratch his jaw.

She cleared her throat, dropping her hand. "You mean, you haven't had a single scheduled appointment?" Dean shook his head, glaring. "Well, that will have to go in my report. Mister James' suspension may become permanent."

Dean grimaced. "Oh, don't do that to Marty. He's not so bad."

"No?" Miss Brown had some nice eyes. He could work with that.

"He helped Rae call for help when they were being held. She said he even told her stories and tried to keep her calm." Dean shrugged. "Marty's okay."

"So…the estate won't be suing?" Miss Brown asked.

Dean shrugged again. "Not that I know of."

She smiled. "Well, my supervisor will be happy to hear that. Actually, I'm here about the emergency call last night, but I could come back another time. Perhaps when you're more appropriately dressed?"

Dean grinned. "Now, where's the fun in that?" When she blushed he decided that maybe this was a social worker he could deal with. He motioned for her to come inside. "So, are you people plugged in directly to the cops or what?"

She gave him a little smile. "Something like that. I am a little surprised you aren't all up yet."

Dean yawned, stretching. "Late night. After all that, we didn't exactly feel like going to bed." He winced when his shoulder made itself known. Damn, forgot about that.

"How is Rae? She wasn't harmed, I take it." Miss Brown opened her file again. She moved to sit on the couch until she noticed Bobby sleeping there.

"Kitchen." Dean led her to the table. "Rae's fine."

Miss Brown sighed. "You know, assuming all your claims are indeed true, your daughter should be in some type of therapy. We could arrange an appointment for you."

"She's already seeing someone," Dean replied, feeling a bit ruffled by this woman telling him what his family needed.

"She is?" Miss Brown flipped through her file again. "I don't have any notes on that. The name of her therapist?" Her pen was poised over a page in her file.

"Susan Smith. Nice lady. She seems to be helping." Dean's arms crossed tightly over his chest. "Not that we've been doing a bad job."

Miss Brown's head snapped up. "I never said that, Mister Cooper." Her pen tapped absently on the file. "Part of our job is to assist parents who are out of their depth, who don't understand what their children need. How long has Rae been seeing Doctor Smith? She is an excellent choice, by the way. Very highly recommended."

"Nice to know you approve." He heard his voice come out flat, not exactly what he wanted.

"How long?" she repeated.

"Just two visits so far." An annoying tapping noise filled the kitchen. Dean looked down to find his fingers making the noise. Clenching his hands into fists, Dean moved the offending digits into his lap.

"But there will be more?" Miss Brown pressed. Dean gave a curt nod, staring at her.

"Dean!" Sam hissed. "You didn't?"

Dean looked up. "Didn't what? What the hell are you talking about?" What was wrong with Sam?

Sam glared, throwing sharp looks at Miss Brown. Dean rolled his eyes. Oh. That.

"Miss Brown, this is my brother, Sam. Sam, this is Miss Brown. She's replacing Marty." He gave Sam a smug smile. Bastard deserved it. Like he would really bring a date here. Or go on a freaking date after last night? Well, okay, he might, but not so damned early, that's for sure. Come to think of it, when was the last time he had a date? Damn, Sam had more dates than he did these days. No wonder he was having those frigging panic attacks.

"Oh. Nice to meet you." Sam shook her hand before sitting next to Dean. His brother gave him one of those apologetic looks. Dean ignored it. This had to be worth something later. Sam was a help getting rid of the woman, though. When Sam started fussing over him, saying how he needed to get to bed because of the blood he lost last night, Dean felt like slugging his brother. But then he noticed the affect it had on Miss Brown. Her face dropped and she could not excuse herself fast enough.

"Okay," Dean admitted as Sam closed the door, "not bad." He pointed a finger at his brother. "But don't think this means I'm going right back to bed."

Sam smiled at him. "As long as you take it easy today, I won't say a word."

"But I might." Bobby sat up on the couch. "Took you boys long enough to get rid of that woman. Your daddy could have done it in half the time."

"Maybe so," Dean agreed, "but we're planning to stick around for a while."

"You get the school taken care of?" Sam asked.

"What?" Dean crossed the room in a few quick strides. "You went back there by yourself?" he demanded.

Bobby yawned, stretched and nodded. "Yup. Come on, Dean. I've been doing this since before you were born. Had to see this friendly spirit for myself."

"And?" Sam perched on the arm of the couch. "Is she friendly? Was she really looking out for Dean and Rae?"

"Looks like." Bobby leaned back. "Seems like Elly's pretty attached to Rae because Judy is so worried about her." Bobby shrugged. "She said when Rae panicked about the werewolf going after Dean, she protected Dean to calm Rae down. Then Dean had to convince her to let him go when the werewolf came after you. Something about Sam being Rae's mother?" Bobby stared at Dean, his face disapproving.

Dean shrugged. "Worked, didn't it? Besides, it's not like I was lying." Sam's cheeks went bright pink.

Bobby shook his head, watching Sam. "Don't know what I'm going to do about you two."

Dean grinned at that. "Not much you can do, Gramps."


	34. Chapter 34

My sincere apologies for keeping you waiting, but **_Brigid Tanner_**, my intrepid proofer on this story, informed me that I couldn't possibly wrap everything up in just one chapter. So I decided to slow down and there will be a couple more chapters after this. **Murphy's Law**, the sequel to** Lil' Sammy**, will start posting _real soon_.

**Chapter 34**

Dean sprinted into the kitchen as the smoke filled the den. "Damn it!" he yelled, yanking open the oven door. Smoke billowed out, momentarily blinding him. What the hell could be burning, anyway? All this stuff just needed to be heated up and had only been in for a short time. He battled the smoke, pulling everything out trying to find the burning culprit.

"I'll get it!" Sam called out. Oh, perfect. This would be when someone arrived for dinner. "And I'll leave the door open!"

Sarcastic little shit, Dean thought viciously as he slammed the turkey down on the stovetop. Something was smoking like a cheap hooker way in the back.

"Geez, Dad. I thought Uncle Sam was the one who could burn water?"

"Help or get the hell out of the way," he snapped at Rae.

"I'm not in the way," she argued. Since when did that kid argue with him, anyway? Dean refrained from snapping back, concentrating instead on the smoking object right under the pan of dressing. He practically tossed the dressing on the counter, advancing on the black lump. The top of one of the containers billowed black smoke.

"Damn it!" he swore, his voice echoing inside the stove. He pulled back to try to catch some air, his eyes stinging and watering from the black smoke. He grabbed the smoking side and ran outside with it. In the fresh air, he could see blackened paper on top of the aluminum cover. Frowning, Dean nudged it with his oven mitt. It slid easily around, like it was lubricated. "All right," he shouted, not bothering to turn toward the apartment, "who the hell left a stick of butter on the potatoes?"

Dean spun around to face the others. Sam, Rae and Sarah stared at him. "A stick of butter?" Sam asked. "But how would a…oh."

"Oh?" Dean demanded. "What the hell does 'oh' mean?"

Sam gave him a lopsided smile, the one that used to get Sam out of practically anything back when they were kids. "I, uh, got it out to add to the mashed potatoes. I remember setting it on top of the pan. That was about the time Sarah called wanting to know what she could bring. I remember putting the pan in the oven."

"But you never actually put the butter inside with the potatoes, did you?" Dean shook his head. Sam probably could burn water, especially if he was distracted by a pretty lady. Sam grinned sheepishly.

Dean scowled. "Rae, you open all the windows. Sam, see if you can find a fan or something to blow this smoke out of the apartment." He turned his back on them, trying to pry the hot aluminum top off the container. "Hi, Sarah."

"Hi, Dean. Maybe I could go ask one of your neighbors for a fan?"

He did not bother turning around, choosing to focus on the still smoking side dish. "Sure, whatever." He heard her walk around him as he kept burning his fingertips on the container. Who knew butter could burn so damned fast, anyway?

"Dean?"

His head snapped up at the deep baritone. "Hey, Bobby. Starting to wonder if you were going to make it." He glared down at the side where the burning butter sent up thin tendrils of dark smoke.

"Wouldn't miss it," Bobby assured him, "I just had to pick someone up first."

"But who would you…" Dean froze as the obvious answer filtered into his brain. _Oh, please, Bobby,_ he silently pleaded, _don't tell me_. He turned slowly from the offending side dish smoking on the sidewalk to face Bobby. Standing just behind his old friend was a woman with gray streaked hair wearing a dress covered in bright colored flowers. Miss Grimmault. She held a large dish in her hands.

It took everything he had not to scowl at her. "Miss Grimmault. Well, this is a surprise." He shot Bobby a strong look, making a mental note to jump Bobby's case later for springing this on them. He nearly forgot to pull off his oven mitt to shake her hand, finding it full of her dish instead.

"So what happened here?" she asked, stepping around Bobby to wrinkle her nose at the nasty package on the sidewalk.

"I let Sam heat up dinner." Dean shook his head. "Rae claims he could burn water. I think I agree with her."

She laughed. Dean turned to watch, unsure if he heard that right. Miss Grimmault was smiling and laughing, exchanging light laughs with Bobby. She didn't look half bad like that, considering her age. Dean could almost see what Bobby must see in her. Didn't excuse it, though.

"So, what's in here?" he asked, hefting the dish.

"Peach cobbler," Miss Grimmault said with a smile. "Same way my grandma used to bake it."

"Dad, I put everything back in the oven and all the windows are open. Gramps!" Rae sped out the door, crashing into Bobby like a run-away freight train.

"Hey, Sunshine!" Bobby laughed, hugging her back. Dean returned his attention to the mashed potatoes. He was certain the potatoes were fine, it was just the burned butter on the cover that was the problem. He set the cobbler down. With a deep breath, Dean grabbed the edge of the aluminum lid and wrenched it off.

"Dad? You didn't burn yourself, did you?" Rae inspected his hand.

Dean yanked his hand away. "I'm fine. Now let's get these potatoes back into the oven before your uncle can get his mitts on them again."

"I heard that," Sam's voice snapped. "Hey Bobby!"

"Sam," Bobby moved into the apartment. Dean followed the others, carrying the potatoes minus the smoking cover and the cobbler. Five adults around, and he was stuck carrying everything. Dean slid the pan back into the oven.

"Got one!" Sarah appeared triumphantly in the doorway with a box fan, which she set up just inside the door.

"You must be Bobby," she said, hand extended. "And this is?" her eyes drifted to Miss Grimmault.

"Judy," Miss Grimmault said, introducing herself.

"She brought cobbler," Dean said, forcing his best smile. Sam shot him that 'what the hell are you doing look,' which he steadfastly ignored.

"Where's the holy water?" Rae's voice hissed in his ear. Dean tried to nudge her gently while coughing back a chuckle. Honestly, when did the kid turn into a regular teen? He guessed he had Susan to blame – er, thank for that.

"So, what's the big event happening this weekend?" Bobby asked, breaking the awkward silence.

Dean beamed, nodding at Rae. "Tell him." She shook her head. "Tell him, or Uncle Sam will make you say grace over dinner."

Rae's cheeks went bright pink. "Skeet shooting."

Bobby's head tilted to one side. "Excuse me? Your big event this weekend is skeet shooting?"

Dean bobbed on the balls of his feet. "Father – son tournament." His face broke into a wide grin.

"But what does that…" Bobby turned to Sam.

"No rules against girls," Sam explained, also grinning.

"And great practice with a shotgun," Dean added.

Bobby barked out a short laugh. "Your daddy would definitely approve."

Dean felt a warmth spreading through him that had nothing to do with the people in the room or the fact the air seemed less smoky now. "So, until dinner is ready, cards?"

--------------

Judy Grimmault was a little surprised over Bobby's reaction to Dean Cooper's offer to play cards. He steadfastly refused. Instead, Bobby insisted on looking over Dean's photo albums. Dean did not look too pleased, but he brought one out.

"Where's the other one, Dean?" Bobby asked, taking it from the younger man.

Dean scowled. "Rae's not in that one. What's the point, Bobby?"

"Well, I thought maybe Sarah and Judy would like to see you boys when you were young. And cute." Bobby grinned at him.

Judy watched Dean hesitate for a moment. "Nobody wants to see that, Bobby."

"I do," Sarah interjected with a grin. "I'm sure Sam was a cute little kid."

Dean disappeared into the bedroom again, returning with another album. Both albums looked new, but the pictures inside were clearly old, especially in the non-Rae album. Bobby pointed out pictures of interest to her, most of which were of Dean and Rae together and how happy they looked. She could take a hint. Really.

When Bobby called and invited her to Thanksgiving dinner with his family, she refused. He spent an hour talking her into it, finally telling her that his granddaughter would be there. She found that intriguing since he never mentioned family, much less a granddaughter, before. After he picked her up, Bobby mentioned that his granddaughter was in her class. Pretty sneaky, considering she would never have come to a current student's home. It was a good thing Bobby was so good looking. He even dressed up today; his ballcap was new.

Judy tried to make the appropriate oo and ah sounds over the pictures Bobby pointed out. But really, most abusive families had loving pictures. However, most abusive fathers don't beam the way Dean did when Bobby talked about his daughter.

"And then," Bobby chuckled, "she decided that the hospital room walls were boring. So Rae started drawing pictures all over the walls."

"That's what happens when you leave a six year old alone with a box of crayons," Rae said, arms crossed over her chest.

"You weren't alone. Your dad and uncle were there!" Bobby protested, eyes sparkling.

"Asleep!" she argued, grinning. "Besides, you liked my pictures."

Bobby's face split into a wide grin. "First time you talked to me."

"What did she say?" Judy asked, overcome with curiosity.

Bobby chuckled. "Rae asked if I liked her decorations. I thought the nurse was gonna have a stroke when she walked in and saw that."

"I think I have a picture of them," Dean said, taking his photo album back. He flipped to the front of the book. "Yep. Here it is." He pointed out a picture of Rae standing in front of a well decorated white wall.

"Yes," Judy said with a nod, "that must have been one boring wall before."

"After that," Dean's face beamed, "we didn't have much trouble in talking them into releasing Sam a little early."

"You wanted him released early?" Judy felt puzzled. Who wanted out of the hospital before it was safe?

"I hate hospitals," Sam replied, a scowl on his face.

"Oh." Judy shifted uncomfortably next to Bobby. Was that pre-cooked dinner ready yet? She threw a glance toward the kitchen.

"Let me check on the turkey," Dean jumped up and crossed the space into the kitchen in a flash.

Despite the fact Bobby sprung his family on her, Judy found herself having a wonderful time at dinner. She was starting to believe these men were just overprotective. So far, she had seen no signs of abuse and Sammie Cooper was certainly comfortable at home. She was a completely different person. The child even teased her father and uncle during dinner. How many abused children did that?

After dinner, Sammie – er, Rae – snuggled up next to her father on the couch. After a few minutes of discussing Sam's new car, the girl fell sound asleep.

"Well, personally, I love it. At first I was a little disappointed it didn't have bucket seats," Sarah explained.

Dean shook his head, interrupting her. "I hate bucket seats."

"They're more comfortable for long road trips," Sarah argued.

Dean grinned. "But not for other things." His eyebrows waggled.

A whimper came from the sleeping girl. Everyone ignored it.

Sam's cheeks flushed bright red. "Dean!"

"What?" Dean waved his free arm. "It's the truth."

"What kind of car will Rae have?" Bobby asked. They all stared at him. "She will be old enough to drive in a few years."

"How about a tank," Dean mumbled as a second whimper erupted from his side. The arm wrapped around his daughter rubbed her arm soothingly.

Sarah appeared to be the only other person concerned about the child. "Is she all right?"

"Nightmare," Dean and Sam answered in unison.

"Why don't you wake her up?" Judy asked.

"If it gets bad," Dean replied, his eyes hard, "I will." When Judy continued to just stare at him, he added, "Sometimes bad sleep is better than no sleep." When he said that she could hear the resignation in his voice, like this was something he had to come to grips with years ago.

"So, uh," she faltered, torn between her concern and curiosity and the fact she was the one who pestered Family Services into looking into this unconventional family, "how long has she been having bad sleep?"

Sam sighed then. "Since day one." Dean shot him a hard look, which Sam deflected with a shrug. "She used to wake all the neighbors with her screaming. It's a good thing we used to move a lot."

Dean chuckled at that. "Even so, we did get kicked out a few times."

"Not many." Sam sat back in his folding chair. "Dean is great about making managers feel guilty." A bright grin flashed on the boyish face. She was starting to see why Bobby was so fond of this family. There was just something about them when they weren't being defensive and abrasive. A loud whimper came from Dean's side.

"Uh-oh." Sam stood, peering anxiously at Rae's face. He met Dean's eyes, shaking his head. "She's just getting wound up now."

Dean sighed. He pulled her up to sitting beside him, shaking her gently. "Rae? Rae." The whimper grew into a low, painful cry. Both Cooper men winced. Dean barked, "Sammie!"

Her eyes flew open. "Daddy?" She had a glazed look, like she was not seeing what was right in front of her. "Daddy!"

Dean grabbed her face with both hands. Judy had to admit, he held the child's face gently and his voice was controlled. "Sammie Rae, look at me." It was a commanding voice, she felt herself involuntarily obeying. "Rae, I'm fine. Look at me!"

Rae blinked a few times, the glazed look melting away into relief. "Dad!" Her arms flung around his neck, hugging him tight. Then she pulled back, inspecting his face carefully. "It really didn't get you?" she asked, clearly worried and upset. He smiled at her, shaking his head.

"Uncle Sam!" she spun away from her dad, eyes searching out the face looming just over her. Rae reached up, checking his face, too. Satisfied, she collapsed back next to her father.

Sam rubbed her shoulder before sitting next to Sarah. "It ate our faces this time?" he asked, much to Judy's astonishment.

Rae nodded, clinging to Dean's side. "It was gross."

"I'll bet. I don't suppose you had a flare gun this time?" Dean asked, kissing the top of her head.

She shook her head. "It wasn't a Wendingo. It was a werewolf."

"Oh, well, that's different." Dean actually grinned at her. "Then you need silver bullets."

Rae sighed. "I know, Dad. But you don't always have what you need in your dreams."

"Well, we'll just have to work on that with Miss Susan, won't we?" Dean asked.

"I like her." Bobby declared. "Nice lady. How did that session about your parents go, Rae?"

Rae looked up, still breathing a little hard. "Fine."

"Fine?" Sam protested. "It went great, Bobby. First time Rae talked about what happened in years. She even remembered some details Dean forgot."

"But that's not saying much," Rae protested, lifting her head.

"Oh, thanks a lot, kiddo," Dean snarled, but there was a smile behind the words and he hugged her a little tighter.

Bobby leaned forward. "You finally tell them what happened before your daddy got there?"

Rae nodded. "But I really don't want to talk about it again."

Bobby smiled at her. "No problem, Sunshine." He reached out to ruffle her hair.

"So," Dean rubbed his hands together, "who's ready for that cobbler?" He grinned at them all as Rae rolled her eyes.


	35. Chapter 35

My apologies for the immense delay. I lost my grandfather at the beginning of August so the majority of this chapter is written in Bobby's POV in honor of him. Thanks to _Brigid Tanner_ for proofing this. (She said it's too short, but we'll continue with the parts I left hanging in the next chapter.)

**Chapter 35**

Bobby stood next to Sam, sharing the younger man's anxiety but for a completely different reason. He knew Sam was worried about Rae participating in this skeet tournament, that she might not be ready for this kind of public presentation. To be honest, after what he heard happened during her history presentation, Bobby was not sure Sam was off-base on this one.

Most of Bobby's anxiety emanated from the woman standing next to him. Wow, was Rae's English teacher a looker! He could not believe how Dean could not like this woman, and he really wanted them to get along. His hope in bringing her today was that she might finally see what a great job Dean and Sam were doing in raising Rae.

"Bobby?" Judy Grimmault tugged on his arm. "Isn't there an age restriction on this tournament?" Her sparkling, intelligent eyes were wide.

"Sure, Judy," he patted her hand comfortingly. "No kids under twelve and you do have to present a birth certificate as proof."

Her hand constricted on his forearm. "Oh, well, that's reassuring. My students know how to use shotguns. Wonderful."

Bobby chuckled, wrapping an arm around her. "Now don't be like that." When she started to pull away, he released her. A moment later, to his surprise and relief, Judy leaned back against him. Bobby put a tentative hand on her shoulder and was rewarded with her hand on his.

"Okay, let's see what this granddaughter of yours can do," Judy said. "Are they up next?"

"Soon," he replied. "That's the eleventh team getting ready to shoot. Dean and Rae are team twelve."

"Oh my god," Judy hissed, her shoulders stiffening.

"What? What is it?" Bobby hunched over slightly to hear better. The son of team eleven was shooting.

"That's Kevin Smith!" she hissed. "He's one of my students!"

"Oh, so that's Kevin." Bobby eyed the boy carefully. "He's the reason we're here, you know."

"How's that?" Judy asked, each shot sending a shudder through her that Bobby could feel.

"He invited Rae to come watch him and his father compete in this thing." Bobby chuckled. "Well, that just got Dean's dander up. Next thing we knew, Dean signed them up for the tournament."

Judy twisted slightly to look up at him. "When was that?"

Bobby shrugged, trying to remember what Dean said late last night. "Not sure. Couple of weeks ago, I guess. Why?"

Judy frowned. "Well, that didn't exactly give them much time to practice, did it?"

Bobby held in the laugh threatening to escape. "Well, obviously you don't know Dean very well."

"Well, any parent who chooses to teach a young child how to use a firearm…" Judy began, but she was interrupted by Sam.

"I used to think that way, too. But I've changed my mind," Sam declared.

"Really. What made you change your mind? Your brother?" Bobby flinched at the disdain in Judy's tone.

Sam leaned over, one arm still draped around Sarah's shoulders. "Kids who are brought up knowing what firearms can do don't play with them. You should see Dean's watermelon example. It's pretty persuasive." He nodded his head at Rae, who was watching Dean check out her shotgun. "Rae won't touch any kind of gun unless one of us is around. If my dad were here, he'd probably tell you…"

"That's enough, Sam," Bobby said firmly, rubbing Judy's shoulder protectively. Sam gave him a startled look before turning back to watch Dean and Rae.

Rae moved to the first shooting position. Bobby wondered if her eyes were even open, the way she shot. Her attempt at the second position wasn't much better. Head hanging low, she side-stepped toward the third position.

"Hang on! Just a minute!" Dean shouted, waving his hands for attention. He pulled Rae to the side. Bobby watched intently as Dean's hands gripped those young shoulders in a firm, reassuring manner.

"What do you think he's doing?" Judy asked in hushed voice.

"Trying to calm her down. Rae's a pretty decent shot. For her to miss two targets like that," Bobby shook his head at her, "she must be pretty shaken up."

"You've, uh, seen her shoot then? Do all of you go hunting or something?" Judy's face reflected her fear that might be the case.

Bobby saw Sam's tall, lean frame tense at the question. "We've been known to hunt a thing or two," he said before Sam could put in his two cents' worth again. "Did you think Dean just happened across Rae in that bear's cave all those years ago?"

Judy spun to face him. "Rae's paper did say he was out hunting…" Her eyes searched his.

Bobby nodded at her. "He was hunting a bear known for mauling campers to death. That's the kind of hunting we do, from time to time. Not for sport."

"Oh." Judy leaned against him again, pulling his arm around her waist this time.

Rae stepped up to the third position. Bobby watched as her shoulders raised and lowered with deep breaths. "Pull!" The shotgun snapped to her shoulder as she sighted. With the loud report of her shotgun, the clay target exploded in midair. Bobby let out the breath he had been holding.

--------------------

"That's it!" Dean shouted. "When you get two targets, just focus on one. Don't worry about both of them." Dean hovered near her, probably just within Rae's peripheral vision. Judy watched, fascinated, as her student responded so well to Dean. Rae hit at least half of her targets after that, and all of the targets at her last two positions.

"That's my girl!" Dean shouted when her turn was over. He rushed forward taking the shotgun in one hand and the girl in his other arm. Dean swung her around once before setting her gently on her feet. The instant she was free, Rae dashed into the crowd to find her Uncle Sam.

Sam crouched down a little, shortening himself so he would be barely above eye level with the girl bouncing off strangers in her haste to get to him. Judy could not help but smile at the look of pure joy on the man's face as Rae collapsed against his chest.

"Hey, Rae!" Kevin Smith appeared out of nowhere, eyes gleaming with young teen puppy love. Oh, why hadn't she noticed that earlier? It certainly explained a lot about his behavior in class. Should she separate them now?

"Hi, Kevin," the girl replied, a little breathless. "Did you see me? I did it! I actually did it!" Rae sounded full of energy and pride but the way she held on to her uncle's arms, Judy was pretty sure it would leave marks later.

"You were great," Kevin said with a big, goofy grin on his face. Sam looked like he had to swallow something sour and rocked Rae gently side to side. "Listen, I was wondering if, after the tournament, you'd like to…"

"Shhh!" Rae snapped, her eyes riveted back to the shooting area. "It's Dad's turn."

Judy heard Kevin's lone sigh as they turned to watch Dean Cooper shoot. She knew several of the younger teachers thought he was 'a hunk' and she could have sworn their librarian referred to him as 'dreamy.' Judy wondered what they would think of him now. Dean stood with an easy confidence, the shotgun loose in his hands. When he called for the targets to be released, the shotgun snapped up to his shoulder as though it were an extension of his body. One by one targets exploded in midair from Dean's precision shooting. Judy decided the librarian would undoubtedly form a Dean Cooper fan club if she witnessed this.

"Is he crazy?" Sam hissed to Bobby. "At this rate he'll wind up in the paper."

"Relax, Sam," Bobby whispered back. "Don't forget what the doc says about trust and uh, all that stuff."

Sam rolled his eyes, allowing Sarah to pull him away. Judy tugged on Bobby's arm. "What's he so worried about?"

"Sam just feels that Rae has been kidnapped enough for one lifetime and would prefer his brother and niece stay out of the paper," Bobby explained.

Judy nodded in agreement. "Good point."

"Shhh," Bobby hushed her. "Don't encourage him." She stared at him a moment. What did he mean by that?

At the eighth position, Dean shouldered his shotgun. "Okay, I've had enough." He waved off the officials trying to question him about it, making his way through the crowd.

"See?" Bobby said to Sam. "Now they won't even place."

Judy twisted slightly to see Bobby's face. "How do you know that?"

Bobby grinned at her. "Well, judging by the shooting so far, that display ought to put Dean in fourth place for individuals and their team about right smack in the middle."

"Oh." Bobby could be so impressive sometimes! That must be why she kept letting him talk her into doing these things. Or it was that devilish twinkle in his eye? She would have to think it over – later.

Dean Cooper shouldered his way through the knot of spectators gathered for this thing with a wide grin on his face. "So?" he asked, arriving at their position. "Does anyone feel like banana splits?"

Rae squealed like a little kid. Judy took that as a 'yes.' "Can I ride with Gramps?" Rae asked, her head turning to look at Bobby.

"Well, I have to drop Judy off first. She says she has some grading to catch up on," Bobby replied.

Rae shrugged. "Okay by me. Dad?"

Dean Cooper shrugged, an almost identical movement to his daughter's. "If it's all right with Bobby."

"Come on, then, Sunshine." Bobby beamed at the girl. Then he turned to Dean to ask, "Where do I meet you?"

"That ice cream place around the corner from the apartment," Dean said. "By the time I get the guns cleaned and put away, you'll probably beat us there." Sam laughed at that, though Judy had no idea why.

---------------

Bobby dropped Judy off at her place. He studied Rae for a moment out of his peripheral vision. That girl would never have asked to ride in the same vehicle as her dreaded English teacher unless she was up to something.

"Bobby?" Rae asked, clearing her throat a little.

Here it comes, he thought. "Rae?"

"Uh, you know Dad and Uncle Sam won't be there yet, right?" She looked up at him, reminding him of the little kid she used to be. Boy, the girl grew so much this year!

"What did you have in mind?" he asked, searching for a place they might be able to sit and talk for a while.

"I was just kinda wondering about something." She shrugged, glanced out the side window.

"So are you going to ask or beat around that bush all day?" Bobby grinned to himself. "You know your daddy will come looking for us in less than an hour."

She chuckled at that. "Yeah, I know. I, well, I wanted to ask about my grandfather."

Bobby froze. Fortunately they were at a red light. "Hang on," he said, holding up one hand, "I think I need to pull over for this." After the light changed to green, he pulled through and turned off into the first parking lot he could. Bobby parked under the shade of a tree at the far side before turning to face her. "Say that again."

She fidgeted in her seat, acting more like a little kid than the young woman she appeared to be. He wondered if it was this age, caught between childhood and adulthood, or if it was part of the 'delayed emotional growth' that therapist mentioned. She cleared her throat, eyes darting up to look him head-on. "I want to know about my grandfather."

Bobby frowned. "Which one, sweetheart?"

"Not my birth parents' parents," Rae replied with a shake of her head, sending loose brown curls cascading over her shoulders, "Dad and Uncle Sam's dad."

"You want to know about John Winchester," he said, wanting this to be crystal clear before he answered. She nodded, watching him expectantly. "What do you want to know?"

Rae continued to stare straight at him. Apparently she expected him to try to weasel out of this. Smart kid. "Well, when Dad and Uncle Sam tell me about the exact same event, it sounds totally different. Dad will grin and laugh, like it was a good memory. Uncle Sam will scowl and shake his head, like everything that happened when he was growing up was terrible. I don't understand that. Was my grandfather that different with them or what?"

Bobby scratched his whiskers up his jaw, right up to his ear. That was the problem with smart kids, they asked hard questions. "Actually, I think John treated them pretty much the same, except he expected a whole lot more from your daddy than he did from Sam. Uh, Uncle Sam."

Rae waved a hand at him. "I'm thirteen. Don't worry about the uncle thing, I got it covered." Bobby laughed to himself, shaking his head. "You were saying? John expected more of Dad than Sam?"

The swift change of gears from proper family names to first names, with the only exception of Dean's, threw him for a moment. But just for a moment. "Well, yeah. I mean, I always suspected he left his boys alone when he went hunting, leaving Dean, your dad, to look after his little brother. I never could get him to admit it. Not until much, much later, after I couldn't do anything about it."

Rae's eyebrows shot up her forehead at that. Well, who could blame her? "So how did you find out?"

Bobby cleared his throat. He really did not want to go into all the details. "Well, did Sam ever tell you about when he left for college?"

Her eyes widened now. "Uncle Sam left? You mean he left without Dad?" She rocked back, slamming the back of her head against the seat. "Well, that would explain a lot!"

"How do you mean?" Now Bobby was intrigued. What exactly about Dean did that explain?

"Nevermind," she said brusquely, sitting forward again. "So what about when Sam left for college? What does that have to do with how they grew up?"

Bobby wondered if he could stall until their hour was up and his cell starting ringing like crazy because Dean was looking for them. If those boys hadn't told her any of this, maybe it was because they didn't want her to know. Ah well, he was halfway in it already, might as well go all the way.

"John and Dean came by my place, looking for some research. I forget about what. Anyway, Dean isn't his usual joke-cracking self. When I asked John about it, he sent Dean outside to get something from the car. Really, he just wanted Dean out of earshot."

Rae watched him with bright eyes, her attention riveted to him. "And?"

Bobby removed his ballcap and scratched his head before replacing it snugly on his head. "You know, I've probably already said too much."

She slugged him in the shoulder. "You can't wimp out now! Come on!"

Bobby sighed. He had the terrible feeling that Dean or Sam or both were going to kill him. No going back now. "Well, he told me about Sam's scholarship to college, like it was something really great. Then I asked him why if it was so great Dean was moping around."

"Did John tell you?" Rae asked, leaning closer to him.

Bobby nodded. "He asked me how I would feel if the kid brother I pretty much raised by myself picked a fight with my father so he could go to college, because my father was a stupid, stubborn son of a bitch."

Rae's eyes widened even more, something Bobby did not think possible a minute ago. "No shit?"

Bobby might have laughed, but that had been his reaction too. "No shit."

"What did you say?" Rae asked, hanging on his every word.

"Nothing." Rae gave him a disbelieving look. Bobby cleared his throat. He was not particularly proud of his reaction, even after all this time. "I got my shotgun out and pointed it at him. Your dad walked in about that time."

Her jaw dropped. "And?"

"They left." Bobby shrugged one shoulder. "Next time I saw Dean was when their daddy was taken by that demon. He said he didn't even know if he should have come." He let out a long sigh. "If I thought about Dean feeling like that, I wouldn't have done it."

Rae's gentle laughter was unexpected. "Right. Like you would have thought of it back then. Get real, Gramps." She grinned at him. "Beside, it's not like Dad had really adopted you yet."

Bobby started to answer, but what the hell did you say to that? "Excuse me? He hadn't adopted me or you yet?" He needed a little clarification. If she was talking about herself it would make more sense.

Her grin broadened. "After Dad saved me I adopted him as my new dad. It took him a while, but he caught on eventually. After his dad died he started calling you and talking to you more, right?" She paused, watching him. Bobby nodded slowly. "Right. So eventually he adopted you like I adopted him. It's just taking longer for you to catch on than it did Dad." She winked at him. "Not that I'm saying you're getting slow in your old age or anything."

Bobby snorted, starting up the engine. "If your daddy disowns me for telling you all that, it's your fault." He shook a finger at her before putting the truck into reverse.

_TBC – more questions from Rae coming up in the next chapter_


	36. Chapter 36

Okay, I think this will be the last installment for a while, unless someone points out something I've left hanging. We need new adventures for Rae for a new story, I'm pretty sure this one is done now. Thanks to everyone for their support and enthusiasm in this rather lengthy tale.

**Chapter 36**

Bobby pulled up next to Sam's car at the ice cream parlor. Did they still call them that? He waited a moment for Rae to jump out of his truck before slamming the door closed. Rae shot him a broad grin before racing inside. As he turned to follow, Bobby heard the throaty purr of Dean's Impala. With a glance through the window, Bobby saw Sam greeting Rae so he waited. A four door sedan pulled in just behind Dean.

He ignored the other car at first, until he saw Dean shoot it a nasty glance. Curious, he watched the people get out. It looked like that Kevin kid and his father. Dean actually invited them? No, that sounded more like something Sam would do and it would explain the sour look Dean sported. The boy waved at him, running ahead of his father.

"Is Rae inside?" Kevin asked, too breathless for it to be just from that short run. Bobby nodded and the boy darted around him through the door.

"Bobby!" Dean hollered, walking toward him with purpose. "This is Kevin's father, Mister Smith." Dean paused beside him to whisper, "He's a judge.'

Bobby nodded, extending a hand to Mister Smith when the man approached. "Bobby Singer," he introduced himself.

"Nice to meet you," Mister Smith replied, shaking his hand. "I've met Dean and Sam, may I ask where you fit in Rae's family?"

Bobby smiled broadly. "No." He turned to Dean. "You really want a banana split?"

Dean looked amused. Bobby had no idea if it was his question or how he answered Mister Smith. "They sell ice cream sundaes and malts, too."

"Mister Cooper?" Mister Smith followed them through the door. "I was wondering why you didn't finish your turn? I mean, it looked like you could have taken the individual best shooter award."

Bobby could almost feel Dean's irritation. "It wasn't about winning," he said as he pulled out a chair. To someone who did not know Dean well his voice probably sounded perfectly normal, but Bobby could hear the underlying tone of anger and irritation. He knew Sam picked up on it too when Sam insisted Dean sit between Bobby and Sarah. Unfortunately that left a free seat beside Rae for Kevin.

Sam and Sarah had a table large enough for all of them, which confirmed Bobby's suspicions that inviting Kevin was Sam's idea. Bobby did not miss the fact the rest of their conversation during the ice cream celebration remained either on the skeet tournament or school. Kevin and his father's team trophy for third place sat in the center of the table. Sam kept picking it up and commenting on it until Dean shot him a hard look.

"Not that trophies are important," Sam told Rae, looking a little embarrassed.

Rae grinned. "But banana splits are! Especially with extra cherries." She pointed out the mound of cherries decorating her treat. Sam chuckled and Dean's face slipped into something a little more relaxed.

"I take it you don't go out for banana splits very often," Mister Smith said as he chopped his banana with his pink plastic spoon. "Thanks for inviting us."

"Any friend of Rae's is always welcome," Sam stated, a bit forcefully, cutting his eyes at Dean.

"Whatever," Dean mumbled, scooping up a spoonful of ice cream. Bobby nudged him with his foot. Dean looked over and Bobby nodded toward Rae, across the table.

"…but if Dad likes it, I'm never allowed to buy it. He says he has terrible taste in girl clothes," Rae confided in Sarah. "Uncle Sam says Dad just has terrible taste in women, it's not the clothes." She laughed.

Dean rolled his eyes as Sarah replied, "Well, I wouldn't mind coming along, to give you a woman's opinion."

Rae frowned. "Well, maybe. Amy's mom already invited me to go shopping with them next time they go and Dad said I could."

"Sarah could go, too," Dean said. "I can drop you two off at the mall when Amy and her mom go."

"Or I could," Sam protested. "And I might like to see where our money is going."

Dean made a scoffing noise. He leaned over to whisper to Bobby, "He just wants to hang around Sarah."

Bobby nodded. "Can't blame him for that," he whispered back.

They caught each other's eye, mouthed the word 'smokin' to each other. Dean's head dropped in a fit of silent laughter as Bobby pulled his ballcap lower over his face. He caught Rae watching them suspiciously, but she said nothing.

"Done!" Rae announced, dropping her spoon triumphantly in her bowl.

Dean pushed his empty sundae bowl to meet hers. Bobby looked down at his half eaten ice cream and shoved it forward too. Dessert was not his favorite thing; he was more of a meat and potatoes kind of guy. A few veggies were tolerable, especially if they were fried with plenty of butter or batter.

Dean tossed some cash down on the table. "Ready, Sunshine?"

Rae paused in standing. "Yes sir, but I kinda thought I'd ride back with Gramps. We were having a good talk."

Dean eyed her shrewdly. "I had a feeling. Maybe you and I need to have a good talk? Come on, tell your friend bye."

"Bye, Kevin. See ya Monday!" Rae waved as she followed her daddy outside.

Kevin sighed heavily, watching her leave. "Dad? Isn't she amazing?"

Bobby exchanged a look with Sam, and he was a little surprised at the sour look on Sam's face.

"Come on," Sarah tugged Sam's sleeve. "We can plan our shopping trip while you drop me off at home."

Sam's head snapped around. "You aren't staying for dinner?"

She smiled brightly. "Nah. I wouldn't want to intrude."

"But you wouldn't!" Sam insisted.

"Yes, I would," Sarah replied calmly. "Rae needs to take me in small doses. She already agreed to let me come shopping with her, so that's probably enough for today."

Sam nodded, standing. "You're probably right." He stood, hand extended to Mister Smith. "Nice seeing you again, sir. I hope Kevin and Rae can continue to earn A's in their group assignments."

Mister Smith grinned in return. "Me, too. I've never seen Kevin so excited about school before. And, I must add," he stood, taking Sam's hand in a firm handshake, "it is so refreshing for Kevin to make a friend who still uses sir when speaking to adults."

Sam chuckled. "Well, I'm afraid you have my brother to blame for that one." His head jerked toward the door. "I would have let her call me pretty much anything she wanted when she first started talking to me."

Mister Smith tried to engage Sam in more conversation as Bobby slipped out. He walked into the parking lot just in time to see the Impala pull out, headed for home.

-----------------

"So," Dean pretended not to sound concerned, "what's all this secret conversation between you and Bobby?"

Rae sighed. "It's not a secret, Dad. And I thought we were calling him Gramps now?"

Dean tried to suppress the sigh of irritation. When did this girl get to be so difficult, anyway? When she got like this, he kind of missed the timid girl who jumped at the sight of her own shadow. "Okay, if it's not a secret, what were you two talking about?"

"Well," Rae's fingers moved slowly across the door armrest, something she always did when she wanted to avoid answering a question, "the banana splits were great, Dad. Thanks for suggesting it."

Dean nodded. "Rae. I think I asked you a question." Sounded a lot like his own dad there, didn't he?

"I wanted a different kind of answer, so I asked Bobby," she said, her voice quavering slightly.

Dean swallowed hard. A different kind of answer? What was that supposed to mean? "About what? What are you so worried about?"

"Nothing," she protested. "Honest Dad, it's not because I'm worried. I was just a little confused."

That set off alarm bells in Dean's head. He wished Sam were in the car right now. "Confused? About what? Rae, the last time you were confused was because the dude from Family Services was trying to figure out if you were ever molested."

"Incested," she corrected.

"Uh, okay." Dean wondered if that was actually a word. "What's confusing you?" he actually found himself thankful to be stopping at a red light.

"My grandfather."

Dean turned to look hard at her. "You mean Bobby is confusing?"

Rae shook her head. "No, your father is confusing." She pointed forward. "Green light, Dad."

"Thanks," he mumbled as the car behind them honked. They pulled through the intersection. "So how is my dad confusing?"

Her fingers drummed on the armrest. Dean wondered if she was trying to think of a way not to answer. "Well, the way you and Uncle Sam talk about him. It's confusing. You talk like he was the greatest man ever to walk the Earth, and Uncle Sam talks like maybe he didn't like your dad too much."

"He said that?" Dean demanded. Oh, he and Sam were going to have a serious talk later!

"No! It's not what he says, it's what he doesn't say," Rae informed him.

Dean shook his head. This was too confusing for him, no wonder Rae was confused! "I don't get it."

"You say that your dad was a hero, a great man, brilliant, all that. Uncle Sam says things like your dad did the best he could and he really misses his dad now that he's gone." With a couple of quick glances, Dean could see Rae staring right at him. "It's confusing. I didn't understand how you could see him so differently, so I asked Bobby about it."

"What did Bobby say?" Dean asked. He found he was not angry, which was a little surprising. He wished he had known she was curious about his dad. Sure, she asked a question here and there, but he had not noticed anything to indicate she was this curious or confused. He pulled into their apartment parking lot, finding a spot near the apartment. "Well?" he asked as he shut the motor off.

"He told me a story. It explained a lot," Rae replied, still looking at him, arms crossing over her chest.

"About?" Dean twisted in the seat, one arm draped over his steering wheel and the other over the back of the seat.

"About why he went after your dad with a loaded shotgun," she said, as though such things happened every day.

Dean felt his eyebrows shoot up. "Really? You know, I've always wondered about that. I just left for a minute to get something out of the car and when I came back in, Bobby was holding a shotgun on my dad." He frowned. "Last thing I expected to see, but I guess it had to happen sometime. Dad had that kind of way with people." He chuckled at that. Boy, did Dad have that kind of way with people!

"It wasn't because of anything he did to Bobby," she said. "It was because of what he told Bobby about Uncle Sam leaving for college." Rae glared at him. "You really should have told me about that."

Dean shrugged. "It was a long time ago. Besides, Sam hasn't acted like he wanted to go back in a long time." But that didn't ease his mind about it, did it? "So what did my dad tell Bobby that would make him break out the shotgun?"

She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not sure I want to tell you." Her chin lifted defiantly. "Unless you're willing to tell me what happened, too."

"Rae," Dean used his warning voice.

"That won't work," she snapped, looking thoroughly annoyed. "Sir," she hastily added, he guessed because he was starting to look thoroughly annoyed.

He glared at her for a moment, but she did not back down. With a sigh he realized if he wanted to know what Bobby said, he was either going to have to ask the man himself or tell Rae what she wanted to know. "So what do you want to know?"

She stared at him quizzically for a moment before answering, "What happened? Why did Uncle Sam leave for college? And how did he tell your dad?"

Dean leaned back against the door, contemplating her questions. He longed for the days of simple things like 'Daddy, what happened to the ghost after you burned the body?' Not that he had a good answer for that, but it certainly seemed easier than right now. It could be worse, he reminded himself, she could be asking about boys.

He cleared his throat. "You'll have to ask Uncle Sam why he left for college. I never really got that, except that he had a full scholarship to Stanford."

"Stanford?" Rae's eyes sparkled as she listened to him. "That's a really good school, right?"

Dean nodded. "Your uncle has always been really smart, about most things." He paused, unsure how to describe The Fight, or if he should.

"So, what happened? How did Uncle Sam tell your dad about it?" Rae leaned forward, those sparkling eyes pushing him to tell her.

She would fixate on his least favorite topic. "Look, do we really have to go into any details here? Sam wanted to go to college and Dad didn't want him to." He shrugged. "So they had a fight and Sam left. End of story."

One of Rae's eyebrows arched at him, reminding Dean of the way Sam acted when he wanted to drag something out of him. "So Uncle Sam didn't pick a fight with your dad to get his way?"

"Well…I didn't think…What makes you think he picked a fight?" Dean asked, feeling a little dazed.

"Because your dad told Bobby that Sam picked a fight to get to go to college because he had a stupid, stubborn father." Her mouth twisted to one side. "Or something like that."

"Dad said that?" Dean asked, his eyes going wide. He had a hard time wrapping his mind around his father actually admitting fault. That had been damned rare.

"Yep," Rae replied with a nod, studying him. He felt a little like a lab rat under that intense gaze. "That was why Bobby got out the shotgun."

"Because he was mad at Dad?" Dean wanted to hang his mouth open, but he clamped his jaw shut.

"Oh, yeah!" Rae said with enthusiasm. "That plus your dad finally admitting that you took care of Uncle Sam more than he did all those years. I guess Bobby just kinda snapped." She shrugged, her brow crinkling with concentration. "I wonder…"

It took a few moments for her words to sink in. "You wonder what?" he finally asked, unsure if he really wanted to hear it.

"Well," her eyes darted away, like she expected Bobby to park alongside them any moment, "since he reacted that way, I just wondered if he really started adopting you back then. That would mean it took you a while to figure out you needed to adopt him and even longer for Bobby to finish adopting you back." She met his eyes then. "He has, by the way."

"He has what?" Dean's mind was in a whirl. Were boys this age so confusing?

Rae let out one of those sighs that meant Dean had not been keeping up like she expected. "Adopted you! Geez, Dad, are you really that thick or didn't you think he would?"

"Well, I…" Okay, how the hell was he supposed to answer that?

"You do know there's more to adopting than just a piece of paper, right? People are adopted into other families all the time, and I mean adults. If Uncle Sam continues to see Sarah," she rolled her eyes, "we'll probably have to adopt her, too."

"She's not that bad, Rae," Dean admonished. He caught some movement from the corner of his eye. Bobby walked along the path toward their apartment. "There's your Gramps."

Her face lit up and she pushed open the door. "At least we don't have to worry about Sam leaving us," she raced to say as she slammed the door shut. Rae ran toward Bobby as Dean locked up the car. That kid was really something else. Her words hit him as he opened the apartment door. They didn't have to worry about Sam leaving? Did that mean he needed to talk to Rae about it, or Sam? Then again, if Rae said so, she was probably right. She certainly seemed to have a handle on things like that these days. Better than he did.

_**Thanks again!! **_


End file.
